There was no music in my life
So I invented a violin.
It sat on my table and I watched;
My hand slid across the smooth wood,
It gave me not a sound.
I shut my eyes;
In my head I listened for a note
But it refused to share.
The precision of form,
Perfection of line
This instrument taunted me
And left me deaf with my dreams.
I recalled how I had been caressed
By it’s sweetness on many a lonely night--
Surrounding the silence with silky tones.
I am left with the dying embers
And haunted by its cold closeness.