The Poetry of Brian Langley

Inspired by seeing a man playing a trombone while standing on the riverbank.


Practice Time


He is standing on the riverbank, his trombone to his mouth

Pointing to the other side, the sound all going south

Across the river, calm and wide,

The people on the other side

That are, from here, just tiny specks,

I doubt that they’d be nervous wrecks;

Like I have been until today,

Since cousin Charlie came to stay.


And bought his trombone in his bag, and practiced day and night

And drove me to distraction. I knew it wasn’t right

To ask him to go way outside

Or pack his bag and take a ride.

He needs to practice, that I know,

So on the day, that he can show

Them all his virtuosity

And what an asset he would be.


But the rain, it has been pouring down, he’s had to stay inside

And practice in his bedroom, there’s nowhere I could hide.

I bit my nails, at times I’d cry

Insane, I knew I would be, by

Audition time, tomorrow night

But now I hope, will all be right,

Sunshine today, I truly thank;

He can practice on the riverbank.



© Brian Langley   Aug 31, 2008

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