Leroy Max Poet Free verse

The Violin

With tool and wood the craftsman slave, patience
within the soul he gave

To ever last through ages long, so very light,
but yet so strong

At his bench both day and night, with tool and chisel 
he carve just right

A neck to make, and turn the scroll, the pegs to fit
he drill the hole

Hard maple back, and spruce the top, the sides he
steam and interlock 

A sound post fit and so the bridge, to fit the contour
of the ridge

A piece of wood he put in place, to give it depth,
and also bass

A varnish stain of amber hue, a reddish stain to
blend too

Some Virtuoso maybe play, to give someone
a brighter day

For music make the world go round, a greater piece
of art not found

Four strings he add, and then to pitch, to test the
soul he gave so rich

A balanced bow, he now must make, the hair from
mane of horses take

Then to his hand, he draw the bow, across the strings
the music flow

A Symphony, a quiet band, a melody heard 'round  the land

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