Derelict by Zora Cross

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When I walked back that well-known way last night,
   I hardly knew the place. Friends I had owned
   Had gone, and little lonely echoes moaned
About the spot that once their talk made bright.
Yet at my window I beheld a light.
   And entering my room, some insect droned  
   As usual, some beetle black intoned 
A lone familiar monody of flight.

I saw the instrument I often played,
   The books I loved, the chair wherein I sat.  
   I dared to try a tune by memory led.
It had a sound of music that had strayed
   From rhythm, lost, untutored, broken, flat....
      I did not know till then that I was dead.

First published in The Australasian, 1 December 1923

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This page contains a single entry by Perry Middlemiss published on December 1, 2014 8:04 AM.

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