Books
Poetry/Lyrics
Essays
5 Dec
Slow steps, forwards note by note
as we tread, ink coated
towards The End
of our friend.
Page by page, we set the score,
alight with blazing chords.
Rotating melody in fifths,
with slick tricks, and rhythm,
hitting our sticks.
The horns blast and glow.
Strings sing.
The organ roars its hollow glory,
the story is writ, and done,
we are many, from one.
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