By John Delonas
After so short a time then, Is it now all over? That I who entered the concert and sat Among all that crowd should be singled out To make room for another. For others listening to that chairless organ Were beckoned and left weeping, Turning back at the door and wringing their hands, Only to be shut outside. And now that eerie chord that has become part of me, Is shattered at your touch, And the music fades to me While others grow ever more rapt, Leaning forward unconscious of my passing. Are these the doors that I must enter? And with their closing what a beauteous song is shut; So do not deny me the last look That measures my frailty to know, Though others follow close behind. I have just now caught a sound-- a sound Of warmth and chill which must do me For the journey, For I hear beyond these doors Strange voices in the long grey hall.