Entranced fingers fiddled with rhythms.
Strum after strum, melodies surged out
like an unstoppable waterfall.
By day, songs were sang,
loud and proud.

By night, lullabies were whispered.
A tune of a mother, soft and quiet like the breeze caressing little lifeless leaves.
Like a finely made marble,
it was curved and smooth.
Standing there boastfully, it knew it was the king of music.

Colours of the blue sky bounced onto it's glossy surface, making it the pure colour it is.
Strings were made from heaven itself,
so strong yet so fine.

The lasting rhythm, ti-tum-tum-ti-tum-tum,
were waves overlapping the shores.
Like idiots, like fools,
we fall in love with it, unable to escape it's trance.