Violin
Where sleeps upon the shelf his violin
that in past with mournful tone he plucked
who woo'd a maiden fair and shaped within
the aria upon which ears had wanton supped
For now that hollow wood become an empty thing
and days her strings had sang so lovingly
its heart now dead because of loss of dream
and want of fingers who play now grudgingly
Silent now the bow and string so smoothly licked
and caught the graceful tones upon her played
time did take its toll on misery sipped
where in past her elations joys has stayed
Gone now that audience who was his care
buried in the tomb with their mosses deep
the caress of the music they did share
where both now lay in their closets sleep
Twas grievous chords that last upon her sing
whose chorus stroked reception to the ground
since that place could not himself to bring
or bless that happy wood her joyful sound
COPYRIGHT © 2010 C Michael Miller
via Duboff Law Group LLC
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