The Musician’s Requiem Look around the old tavern at the ever increasing number of empty chairs, the cushions still carrying their imprint, the tables, their place at the bar still bear the circle rings of empty glasses. In half hidden corners sit their instruments, their guitars, their banjos, their dulcimers, their fiddles… each crying to be held, to feel the kisses of fingertips, but the passing years lay dust on their frets. Let us raise one last parting glass, and sing one more song… before our voices, too, stretch into the quiet. “But since it falls unto my lot That I should rise and you should not I'll gently rise and softly call Good night and joy be with you all” Nathan Tompkins
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