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Francie Lynch Oct 2016
You had a recital, I missed;
Your hands poised, back straight,
Toes touching the hardwood stage
Near the pedals.
Stillness filled the theatre;
I felt the transmission of inaudable notes
Blending, peeling,
Stinging my senses.
I confessed my unintended sins,
My one of omission -
The one that left you on the swing;
The one when you fell.
I missed your recital,
But I attend it often,
Echoing and bounding over swaying hills.
Such an Ode... such Joy
At the tranquility.
Such a burden.

— The End —