whole note

Today, the measures of my song are filled
With whole notes,
Those empty little ovals
That allow me neither movement nor rest.

And I find it funny
How something that fills an entire measure
Can be so hollow inside.

Riding on a single line,
I watch others dance across the scale,
Skipping over spaces
And soaring above the staff.

Other notes filled in
With flags flying behind,
Connected to each other so intricately-

While here in my measure,
Nothing ornate-
Just one plain and lonely note.

Slowly and steadily,
Rings out restless
The same tone.