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