//------------------------------//
// Practice 
// Story: Oh, My Dear Octavia 
// by Toe-walker 
//------------------------------//

Sleep and then fetch your bow,
Practice, beginning slow.
Soon you gain speed.
Musical through and through,
Though your limbs grumble, you
Pay them no heed.

Melodies resonate,
Fragments reverberate,
Graceful and loud,
For, by the music kissed,
You are a celloist,
Skilful and proud.

Later by just two days,
Autumn Day will take place.
All will be there.
And on this holiday,
You have been booked to play
Out in the square.

Now you intend to play
That which you wrote to-day,
Making it shine.
As the big date draws close,
Training without repose
Files it fine.

Royals will be there, and,
Gathered from all the land,
Faces with clout.
Swiftly, the day is here.
Ought you to hope or fear?
Go and find out.