Violin

The cold black bow sits in my hand
It is soft and strong
My fingers are stuck in position
Forever still.

The rough metal strings
They burn my fingers
But pain can be pleasure.
Well sometimes!

The orange coloured violin
Smooth and warm with love.
It’s perfect.
It sings my song.

The magic, the music flows through me
And from me through you.
Together in music, in time
Never forgotten.