In silent halls where whispers dance,
The strings of violins take their stance,
A gentle bow, a soulful touch,
Melodies that mean so much.

The piano’s keys in black and white,
Crafting tunes both day and night,
Each note, a story, pure and true,
In every chord, emotions brew.

The trumpet’s call, so bold and bright,
Pierces through the veil of night,
With every blast, a tale unfolds,
Of ancient myths and heroes bold.

The drum’s deep beat, the heart’s own cry,
Echoes of time as days go by,
In every rhythm, life’s pulse is found,
A symphony in every sound.