One More Time

 
The other night I had a dream,
I was seventeen again,
When I heard that familiar voice over the bullhorn:
"One more time, from the top".
I was transported back in time,
In that block,
Taking the opening formation.
I was hot and sweaty,
My drum was heavy,
But I was ready to run through it again.
Somewhere between the opener and the closer,
It felt like it wasn’t quite there yet,
The voice over the bullhorn again said:
"One more time".
We quietly complained, we were in pain,
We’ve heard one more time three times before,
But so far,
With every run through it was getting better.
"One more time!"
I lost track of how many times she said it,
I looked at my friends and made that face,
Damn it, get it together!
Either Marcus or I would call everyone to attention,
Get into that opening formation,
And run through it again, knowing we’d hear:
"From the top, one more time".

After I woke up out of that dream,
I stared at the ceiling for a couple of minutes,
Remembering names and faces,
All those friendships,
And for the first time in a long time,
After all these years,
I wished I could be seventeen again,
And for a minute,
Hear that familiar voice over the bullhorn:
"One more time",
One more time.