Last Curtain Call

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Memoir  |  House: Booksie Classic
This poem is dedicated to a musician friend of mine. I miss his music and smile.

Submitted: September 23, 2009

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Submitted: September 23, 2009

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The last note was played,
and down he walked.
With his friends,
for awhile he talked.
He laughed and shared,
a drink or two.
Then home he went silently,
he wept, but no one heard.
Now silence falls,
not a sound, not a word.
He's read his last review.
For like the thief,
that ever steals,
without remorse,
each person feels.
Death has claimed him, too.
Sometimes at night,
when all is still.
and moolight works,
her mystic will,
his song comes,
ringing through.

For a friend of mine. Play on in the heavens.


© Copyright 2017 Mistress of Word Play. All rights reserved.

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