Stradivarious

 

Encased in its glass prison Nonetheless it speaks, Telling stories to the Beholder, Who stands alone with tearstained cheeks. With high and sweet melody, It weeps for love that's gone. And with shrieking high notes tells of The descent of war-time bombs. A glorious waltz fills the room. As the melody plays on. He is lost in memory. Dancers glide and then are gone. With heavy bow the maestro pulls A dirge from quivering strings. And the pain-filled soul who listens, Feels the loss and grief again. He walks away and Another Takes his place before the glass. The violin begins to sing Of another haunted past. Anita Callender 2004all rights reserved

 

 

 

Author's Note

What do you think?

Reviews

[SimiGirl]

This is great. It is haunting in that most people have felt the loss and grief this poem reflects.