A SPACE TO PRACTICE IN PERFECT HARMONY

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I used to sing with the choir at school but I could never find the space in time to be MYSELF.

They hear my notes rising in colourful and flourishing tones along with all the others; their voices raised higher than my own and I become a tiny mouse amongst gazelles, elegant and strong.

These peculiar notes in line breathing in and out to reach a height of fulfilling melodies in my proudest moment of harmonic euphoria.

So, I may not write them all down as they just become my mushy peas on my already complex plate of associated variables as I stand erect and wait for the conductor to finish his Mexican wave of committed love with magic fingers pointing at the clever string pluckers followed by the soothing of oboes, and the like.

My line space is warbling ever so slightly and so I go back to the beginning of my beautiful musical kinship in the hope that I will build higher bricks of confidence and awe.

It is all I can do as I gaze at a stave aligned and now hear with listening ears the piano keys playing a ballad for me.

So just give me the music and I'll provide a new-found voice and words fit for a diva, whether it is played by piano keys or the strum of an acoustic, and I'll say

Thank you for the music.

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