"...their felt banners frayed and their guitar strings broken": an elegy
The sky poured through the ruins,
of the concrete long forsaken;
the grass encroached upon,
the aisle the dancers'd taken.
Guitar strings 'neath my feet,
no longer could they twang;
but yielded to plainsongs,
which the scholae sang.
The field had been abandoned,
littered by vessels of
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