Soliloquy For ...

Palest of faces from North
I saw then and wept as in a

A dance
A Parade
A funeral

is all thats never been
a journey up her fjord
never should end
so ill sink it

and as was
dressed in a Bunad imaginary
should only vanish

so for eternity Ill function
as that hated player of harp/tar
with little skill and little poise
obsolete