The Violin
She was a lonely violin,
in a case all by herself,
looking forward to the evenings,
when he’d take her off the shelf-
After reaching his destination,
he would gently set her down,
and ever oh so tenderly,
remove her velvet gown-
With chin held high, he’d hold her close,
she made him feel so proud,
and then a song she would sing ,
which always drew a crowd-
Together they were magical,
making music quite refined,
he knew that she was special,
of an extraordinary kind-
Late one night the maestro sighed,
a tear rolled down his eye,
this cannot forever last, he said,
for soon I’m going to die-
The violin now knew,
that soon would be their end,
he had filled her life with loving care,
and been so true a friend-
Now on any given night,
walking down this unpaved street ,
some hear a violin’s lonely cry,
so sad , but yet so sweet-
Copyright © Genevieve Mika-Stevens | Year Posted 2015
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem.
Please
Login
to post a comment