A twelve-day marathon of non-stop music teaching
And now it’s Sunday.
I could have slept late, but I didn’t.
At 6am, the sentences were swirling about to be placed
in the book that has waited patiently,
neglected amidst all the comings and goings.
If I stayed under the covers,
they would leave, never to come back.
So here I am, sleep still beckoning in its foggy way.
But the bright screen awaits the black shapes that speak
of the twelve days I have just lived,
hoping to guide others foolish enough to disturb their own sleep
by dancing down this beckoning path.