09-26-2011, 12:47 AM
Beyond sanitary walls of reason,
blind musicians walk around the square,
mourning loss of one more concert season.
Somber merchants pass them by and stare,
savory displays upon each cart;
games of chance they shamelessly promote
while brokers sit and ply their paltry art,
reciting verses that their children wrote.
Misanthropic Muse once more has spoken,
extending credit for each partial song.
Into the hat, she drops a golden token--
though she knows the tempo sounded wrong.
She hides her face but smiles behind the shroud
then weaves and disappears into the crowd.
blind musicians walk around the square,
mourning loss of one more concert season.
Somber merchants pass them by and stare,
savory displays upon each cart;
games of chance they shamelessly promote
while brokers sit and ply their paltry art,
reciting verses that their children wrote.
Misanthropic Muse once more has spoken,
extending credit for each partial song.
Into the hat, she drops a golden token--
though she knows the tempo sounded wrong.
She hides her face but smiles behind the shroud
then weaves and disappears into the crowd.