All too often
A discordant note sounded
When I thought I would be the one with baton in hand
Leading from the front
And I would cringe
And my body still tenses at the thought
Of hearing the sound again
An ill-pitched interval ringing out
Played to another purpose
Perhaps
But sounding no better for any reason
And the excuse making more of a muddle
Of a chord that should sound strong and true
But I have laid the baton aside
Stepped down from the low podium I once ascended
In the hope of holding a higher one
Let others deal with the noise now
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