It came to play, it came not to stay
A merry gust of lively breeze
Fresh smelling, to unfreeze
Stolid lives; running fleet of foot
Through vacant eyes that lay
Like empty galleries in abandoned theaters
There no voices resonate, no applause
The thread broken, a permanent pause
And laughing, it passed away
Leaving them to their miserable sway
Now memory spins its yarn
Weaving old tales into new fabric
Lived and wished, known and longed
Mingling threads, marking a dawn.
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