Composition Class

In tutorial, keen expectation.
manuscript paper handed back,
edges curling hopefully 
above the flow and tumult,
expanse and repose
of a wild song that would not be tamed.
'B minus. I couldn't give it more,
the fragmentation, you know.'

In concert, hushed anticipation.
Sound rises, flooding forward,
washing audience and hall,
buffeting and gripping.
I see my colleagues' spellbound
surprise, my tutor's face.
'It works!' he said, and each knew
music must be heard, not read.

© Janet Henderson 8th October 2015

With gratitude and happy memories of my composition tutor, Malcolm Pointon, who was unfailingly honest and encouraging. Written for National Poetry Day in response to an invitation in The Guardian to write a poem for someone who has meant something in your life.