Violin

She cried for all the broken hearts, 
Painted everlasting winters – 
Floral patterns etched in ice; 
A frozen tear to 
Soften up the bastard bones. 

Bow made love to needy string 
In cooing fling – wanton whispers 
Fondled under pianissimos, 
Caressing callous hearts. 

Melodrama swayed in satin sound 
– Yet the player wasn’t there, 
Only creamy song, soothing, yearning, 
Teasing bitter minds. 

I sensed her persevering loneliness 
For beauty of an evening: 
Romance of a tune; laughing, 
Sobbing at the fire. 

Then a climax – 
Writhing passion cutting deep – 
Wounding macho flesh, 

And all in a work of musical art: 
Ephemeral stories, yarned of music 
Honed impossibly through her tones.