The Power of Notes

The groove of my tune
depends on my mood.

It's sad, it's dull,
it's out of my control.

I may appear happy,
but inside my music's mute.

My violin won't play again-
unless i stop all thee pretend.

Don't blame the strings, the bow, or bouts:
But trust in me- without a doubt.

The tune will sway and strike each gut,
like an enemy's sword- all will be cut.

The sound will echo of beauty and grief,
and fill each musician with ling'ring belief. 

All of my friends can promise too,
there's simply nothing my violin can't do for you...
Copyright © | Year Posted 2015

Poem

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