Suddenly morning seems like a banquet-hall after the show is over and the crowds are gone...
I wonder, wonder where they go
Those minstrels in black tuxedos
Where morning, noon and through the night
They played their tune without respite
Until one day we realize
Their song has faded to wind-sighs
Earth like a banquet-hall bereft
Where all but fall of leaf has left
© Janet Martin
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