The halls are silent with the ceasing echo of the clamoring
feet only the teachers voice merge from their place of
hiding to press the ears of the lonely soul. Out cast from
these dwellings that will soon crumble yet there he sits
book in hand so carefully examining the formation of each
letter his concentration unbreakable. The wind will even
hold its breath while drifting by soon to him even this
inconstant drabble will be lost drowned away but a secret
sound. The songs of some abandon music box spin around even
if no ones left to listen to its tragic tale.  A haunting
lullaby hidden beneath the dust waiting down on her ageing
coils the mummer softens when she slows even while she’s
dying. She sends out a comfort bless till even in the
silence her sound will not be heard and yet this lonely soul
can not tear himself away trapped with in his release of
foreign worlds a tear will fall to blur the words but
nothing else as the beauty of the music box is stifled out
with a dawning hour