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When
the curtain has fallen,
the prompter is gone,
the seats are tipped up again,
lights are turned on,
there's someone still left,
who enjoyed what was sung,
and continues to listen -
his soul's bell was rung,
swinging from side to side,
pleasant and low,
within the mere touched one,
who's still in his row.
His inner musicians
exceed former play:
enriching
upliftment -
the soul has its say.
A touch on his arm
takes him into the night.
Inside one more encore -
his special delight.
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