Teasing Melody

My younger hands teasing melody from the strings,
Slowly at first, halting, stuttering.
Gradually increasing in tempo,
The sweet notes soaring higher and higher.
Until the call comes for tea,
And I reverently lay it down.

The case rests forgotten in a corner,
Gathering dust and cobwebs.
The passage of time distracts me from it,
There is no time to indulge in such activities.

One day, upon a whim, I take it from its resting place,
To try and coax the notes to flow as sweetly as they once did.
But the strings have grown dull,
And I have grown too old and too tall.
No longer can I tease the melody from my smallest violin.