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
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