Instramental

Sculpted perfectly to fit in his hands, becoming familiar with his grasp.
From the first chord strung with his bow on amateur steel strings.
Italic F echoing melodies, Steel skipping beats
Tuning her with every stroke.
Losing her pegs, replacing metal with sheep skin.
She is his violin UNSUPPORTED CODE Anticipating his complex masterpiece generating sine wave to imitate vowels first. Soprano notes scaling across sheets, he plays her A…A…A5. Only consonant reflect in her G…G…G4 score.
His violin— no longer coos for others, her sound meant for his ears, setting the atmosphere. Neighbors become the spectators, listening to lust-filled arrangements
Conducting until she spills notes across sheets.
His slipping bow never skips a beat
Her violinist has a passion for her sounds
He takes control of her
She relishes in this embrace
Tuned just for him
Standing ovation for encores
She awaits his next instrumental
He is her violinist
She loves being his violin.