The violin wept it’s tears in the rain Wept like a heart that is rent with pain Wept of sorrows too deep to express Whispered of longing too secret to guess. Only the wailing wind and I knew Of the longing too wide to escape. I could not hold the music in my hand To whisper, yes, I understand.. I know what it is to have my soul die I know of pain that cannot cry I know what it is to call out in pain For a hand I cannot hold again – The Violin keened it’s last sobbing note The violinist packed it with it’s bow. And left. He would never know How his music spoke to me, and how it cried with me. But I know, I know – and I am missing thee.