| Description |
he laughed too and aimed his invisible instrument high into the sky. In his mind he envisioned himself as a big man wearing a finely tailored uniform, black pants, glistening gold buttons, braided sold fringe hanging from his He tooted the finest sounds, for his luxurious horn blew only the clearest, sweetest notes. He had no music hooked straight from his head. His repertoire was endless and proudly carried high, supporting the tall scarlet hat with black chin strap, black silky visor trimmed in swags of gold braid, anchored by gold buttons on each side. We wore impeccable white gloves which matched the white spats pulled over his boots. Smiling as he played, he inarched, After his long, hot and tiring march, the parade had ended. He found himself surrounded by the band members falling out of cadence, not marching anymore. They were mingling, talking, while they pulled off their steamy cases and stacked onto a waiting wagon. Uniforms were placed in a large heap beside some wooden storage trunks. The small boy looked around searching for a familiar face. There was no one here he knew. A little pain stabbed They were talking, laughing. He was trying hard not to cry. He pushed his way through the milling crowd. He was away with his hands, leaving dirty smudges across his face. Be Drave he told himself. Don t cry, people will think you're a baby. Keep walking. Keep walking until you find 70 |
