Final Celebration

The music plays on,
He lies motionless,
Sedated forlorn,
End looming on his face.
There isn't a trace
That he did ever embrace
Life and love that fulfils it,
But forever lying on the crumpled sheet!
The music plays in his head,
His fingers faintly move on the bed,
Now from death no more immune,
They celebrate the symphony of one last tune!

poem by Pradip Chattopadhyay
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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