A Poem for #Prince
by (c) Angie Mack Reilly 4/23/16
Everybody loves a performer while they are performing.
“Traveling Minstrels” I call them.
Going from place to place like gypsies,
trying to make a living pleasing crowds.
Then they are left alone to their own devices and sorrow.
They are left to die alone
in mental anguish and unmarked graves.
Where are those who loved them
when their pockets were running full,
their faces were full of smiles
and their hearts were full of song?
Why, cheering on the next traveling minstrel
who makes them feel good!
For they had sucked the life out of the first!
He gave everything he had and then some,
with all of his sensitivities and musical genius.
He thought they would reciprocate
and it devastated him when they did not.
(Pictured above: “The Traveling Minstrel” by Village of Grafton Poetry Paths winner. This poem is etched into the sidewalk at 721 10th Ave. Grafton, WI.)