Spring 1985, Volume 2

Jerry L. Byers

The symphony over,
I still walk in time to music.
The mind continues
A repetition of lyrics,
Both written and not,
To music that does not exist.

Perhaps I was a torch singer
Belting out woes and loves
In an earlier life.

The conductor's baton is stilled...
The orchestra's instruments are mute...
The breath which once hummed melodies.

What have I now become?