A Year of Poems – Day 128

The song echoing in the cheap bar hasn’t changed.
It has the same beat that sent our grandfathers to war
and brought their sons back.
The voice may not be the same,
but it’s close enough to make you guess.
Only the instrumentation is truly different,
betraying the passing years,
but even then the melody remains the same,
hitting the same notes for a different generation,
as time always has in all the great mead halls of the world.

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