from his treasure


...he drew forth a phrase from his treasure and spoke it softly to himself:
     a day of dappled seaborne clouds.
everyone suddenly burst out singing
     he is dead and gone, Lady.
they turned to him, who was listening, and smirked
     it is nice to listen to music, but nicer not to.
when the rains began then, that day
     though not really. it was long ago.

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