My Violin

 

My violin slept in its case last night

Watched over by music left out on the stand

Beautiful notes lie hidden inside

They wait to be called by the bow

 

A whole world of music hides in that case

So casually propped over there

Connected black dots on the page looking down

Smiling say, make us real again

 

I put my hand to the frog*, fingers curled

My friend nestles close, by shoulder and chin

With left hand caressing the string

We’re ready to dance, she and I

 

*Frog – the part of the bow we hold