A Cello Plays
A Cello Plays
I’m sad tonight because I sit alone in my chair
The sound of a cello plays softly in the background
The music is sad like me, as it plays alone, filling the air
I wonder if it feels the pain of the hands that play it
Does it understand that its sound is also a cry of passion?
As the bow touches the strings, the melody laments for someone
Mourning, grieving, the bow plays the cello with strength driven from agony
An agony it doesn’t fully understand except for what the performer expresses
With great care, she holds the cello and escapes into the music filling the night
The flow is smooth, sorrowful, as it leaves the room eerie and haunted in loneliness
A broken piece, the strings bind it together, like a sulking lullaby
Alone it waits to be played, gathering dust as the days drag on
A dark corner becomes its new home
And all the cello knows of is solitude, anguish, and tears
From the hand that held the bow, playing till she bled
That’s all it was taught to play, only to never be played at all.
Written by: Jennifer Maupin
June, 2011
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a
Premium Membership.
