It is, is it, just a room
Like many other
A simple carpet, bedspread
Eiderdown cover
Carved tabled
Embraced with lace
Drawers for dressing
Lathe turned legs
Listening to the Ironmonger’s Ball
Over the rolling, calling, windswept wall
It is, is it, just another room
Like, alike, alike many, many another
A space, stark, dark, dark turned light
Sounds escaping into a classical night
It’s a living, breathing, developing art
Fighting, fighting for its very future
In this room, towards Nirvana
A wind band, a wind band orchestra
Colours combining, harvesting in my mind
In this room, unlike the night
Unlike any other
