Ludwig van Beethoven

A boy began to play.

With notes along the way.

Some notes were low or high.

Like steps or birds that fly.

His fingers found the keys.

Tunes could float with ease.

Some skipped and some could sway.

So many ways to play.

He practised as he grew.

Each day brought something new.

Some notes took time to play.

He learned more every day.

He wrote new tunes to share.

To fill the concert air.

A composer writes a song.

For others to play along.

An orchestra would play.

The tunes he’d send their way.

Soft strings. A drum’s big boom.

Music filled the room.

His hearing faded slow.

Some sounds would come and go.

The world was hard to hear.

But music stayed so dear.

He knew notes low and high.

Could think how tunes might fly.

His mind could hold a song.

And help it move along.

New music filled each page.

For players on a stage.

His hearing changed. He knew

What well-learned notes could do.

A drum goes tap, tap, tap.

Hands make a gentle clap.

Some beats are felt, too.

What does a beat mean to you?

Tunes bounce and beats can sway.

There’s more than one way to play.

With hands or voices too.

What music comes from you?