Dafremen Maestro
by R. Dafremen

When Maestro's hand when to and fro, to and fro
The band began to play
When Maestro flexed his mighty brow, might he now?
Noone could ever say
And just before the curtain calls, the curtain falls
The sound begins to fade
So sweetly that when it was done, the crowd begun
To chant the Maestro's name
As if to punctuate the thought, that he cared naught
For accolades or fame
He left adoring fans in need, leapt on his steed
Then Maestro rode away.
what's it to you?
who go