When the last chord of the old band
Rustled the leaves of the story-tree
A bypassing frenzied flutist broke loose
And thus she chanced upon what was
Supposed to be forgotten that autumn
In distrust, distress, dishonour and distortion
Did the obscured story talk about negligence?
Did it talk about the effervescence of conflicting eyes?
Did it take her through old newspaper stains?
Did it kill the songs of her era or rather choke them?
And she retired.
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