. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .. . . . . . . where ImagInatIon comes to play

Friday, March 7, 2008

REQUIEM

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.......Every evening she pulls out the same old black pick and the El Dégas guitar that she keeps at the foot of the bed. Every night she still cries as she sings the requiem she has composed for her lost lover. With every setting sun she mourns the death of dreams deceased, chanting words to a swan song no one will hear.
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