Violin
I stroke her with the softest bow ,
Back and fourth just right,
So she can talk to me in tones,
That travel down her spine...
As notes of love run down her bridge,
From her G string to her A,
So finely tuned they fill the room,
Thru the F hole cut away...
And the chinrest on her lower boot,
Is where I gently place my chin,
By her tail piece where I finally tune,
The position she is in...
As I lay my fingers on her board,
So I can gently stroke her neck,
She willingly let's me explore,
Every note that makes me sweat...
And as the profile of her upper boot,
Shines the light into my eyes,
The part of me that stands salute,
Feels the beauty that's inside...
Terry
WWW.WhiteLionPoetry.com
Copyright © Terry Ledwell | Year Posted 2012
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