Aroma Of A Sad Opera
She bought her wine
And she stood in the corner,
Waiting for the show to begin.
The show had already begun,
But it played over and over in her mind.
It was a sad voice she heard,
The pulsating soprano of loneliness.
She finished her wine
And took her seat,
And glared at the empty seat
Next to her,
And here comes the conductor,
Orchestrating her shell,
As the light dims
And leaves her void.
Johnathan Leonard Mills
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