The Maestro

The concert hall was slowly filling

With music lovers from all around.

They came to hear the orchestra play,

Led by a conductor of world renown.


The performance was sold out this night;

There wasn’t a single vacant seat.

All desired to see this new Maestro,

Said to be one of the most elite.


At last the time finally arrived

For the symphony to begin.

The instruments began to tune,

Making a harsh and noisy din.


Then a hush fell upon the crowd

As the instruments ceased their sound.

And then he stepped upon the stage—

This conductor of world renown.


He was of a smaller stature,

With hair as white as winter’s snow.

Dressed in a tuxedo with tails,

He nodded and then bowed down low.


Then he stepped up on the platform,

And with his baton in hand,

He rapped upon the podium,

The orchestra his to command.


The players straightened in attention,

As they were waiting for their cue.

And when Maestro motioned the downbeat,

Symphony music did ensue.


Maestro was focused on the music,

As he conducted to the beat.

He waved his arms wildly through the air

And tapped on the platform with his feet.


Every single note was perfect,

And when the concert came to a close,

The Maestro bowed and left the stage,

As the audience applauded and arose.


The Maestro was quite a spectacle

For the concert-goers from all around.

Not only was there music that night,

But a conductor of world renown.





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