The house lights come up
No curtain call
each Maestro and Maestra
Lets their baton fall
The halls lay empty
The balconies stilled
“The clarinet is useless!”
“It won’t pay the bills!”
Horde by horde
The choruses chant
No rhythm, no rhyme
An ignorant lament
They sing their verses
In boardrooms and bailiwicks
Aeolian scales
Corrupted, sycophantic
One by one
The students depart
Until the second chair’s
Bereft a beating heart
The house lights come up
The curtain falls
But no soul attends
This evenings ball
Concert halls closed
The microphone falls
Leaving naught but static’s
Lonely echoed call
A/N:
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About the Creator
Matthew J. Fromm
Full-time nerd, history enthusiast, and proprietor of arcane knowledge.
Here there be dragons, knights, castles, and quests (plus the occasional dose of absurdity).
I can be reached at [email protected]
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