Red Violin
O my dearest heart, thou hast shed a tear,
casting melancholy shadows within.
Your continence has brought my soul so near,
‘tis liken to a concert violin.
The burdens of many, loom in your heart
and you forgot my pain in crescendo.
I beg you dearest; set my strings apart,
hear me, without callus innuendo.
At the concerts’ end, silence fills the hall.
You pick me up, caress my finished wood.
Feel the trust, in an instrument so small
and finely tuned with love that’s understood.
So dear, see my stratovarious heart;
regain my trust and n’er tear it apart.
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