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The Poeme Tragique

I hear the pianist practising the Poeme Tragique
rapid octaves set against falling notes
loud and furious

I search through the grounds in the clammy August air
past clusters of trees and miniature water fountains
down the grassy mound to the Remembrance Garden
sweat pouring from my forehead and face

And still the pianist plays
cascading madness
his fury and despair matching my own

And still I search
but in vain
Written by Lozzamus
Published
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