The valley whispered the secrets of the mountain
As it strummed the strings
Of the acoustic
Guitar.
The chain’s links rattled and clanked against the hollow
Crypt. The melody
Drank the morning dew
Drops.
The monotone drone of the arcane one man band
Scattered all the bats
From ‘neath the golden
Bridge.
The nomadic minstrel strummed his last chord last night
His magnum opus,
His audience of
None.

*Taps rang from the pipes at the caskets lonely hour