back then.
With the not so prepared shell,
but a very prepared fluid.
Under these huge green pointy roofs,
grande halls with ever familiar faces-
And the ever-dampy underground air that one could taste...
I have never felt so much welcomed to be back,
do things I feel best- and it will still be.
When I hook my eyes to the man,
conducting.
When I pushed my every breath to finish a resonance,
making sure I spit consonance,
wiggle a lil more than the others,
though I may look absurd,
for always trying too hard.
When I turn back, to see the ever together mates,
also the new potentials,
I could not wait to look forward for everything,
everything that could happen.
And what the ears could hear,
was not only the harmonies I'd pursue, forever
but the fluent flow of their very accent,
warming the cold spread of this odd-shaped room,
which is, what I always recalled
of recognizing it is a home.
The voices are enough to tie each of us together,
as if...nothing else mattered.
Why which is,
I can not wait to be back,
more than singing at anywhere else.
