My cool and dusky basement, perfect habitat for fungia,
Holds fiddles, keyboards, amps, guitars, and speakers from petite to gotterdammerung-ia.
By this I mean my offspring's music studio,
Where all his folk/rock/classical/ambient songs are brewed-io.
Allowing for my bias as his doting daddio,
I still declare his music's not half bad-io.
So, some day soon I'll power up my boombox radio
And thrill to hear his compositions play-io.
Or, better yet, he'll be the headline act at giant football stadia,
Make tons of dough, and never more require financial aid-ia.
As you may guess by now, my boy and I have differing success criteria.
His dream is music mastery – while, philistine though I may be, I dream for him a paid career-ia.