White petals fluster at the breast,
Opens a mortal wound - becries,
The great descent into cold flame,
So beckoning the year a test,
Pale carnations bloom.

Well goodbye my eager pictures,
Your tale is ancient and refactored time again,
But I shall place you down and find another lens,

I've grown accustomed to your fixtures,
Neatly on walls and sketched out in pages,
Your quaint flames and beams and glassy gauges,

I shall replace them with great whirring metal,
Your successor or at least a retold tale,
Drawn in silicon - a truly eclectic portrayal.

I have just almost one exam left,
That is to say two final tests,
Then soon a plain and simple rest,
Before I charge at my behest,
To summer and the myriad of things to do.

Reed nestled in my jaw,
I try to form a pleasant tone,
Yet a little squeak leaves near ears sore,
Early practice is to bad notes prone,
But it was just for fun nothing too hard-core,
Just to know how my dad feels when in the zone,
And blasting out great jazzy tunes through solid doors.