|
The bow flows languidly across the strings
And a lugubrious wail plays beneath dark skies.
She is power and she is sound
And her violin is the melody of the night.
People stop and they stare,
Yet her music never falters.
She knows the truth of their unspoken emotions.
As the nocturnal song holds them enraptured.
She smiles and lets the tempo wander
Her audience is on the edge
She matches the alabaster pass of the moon
And sings out a long, lagging adagio.
The mournful song of a river of tears
Fills the midnight air
It flirts with the edge of self control
Leaving her congregation’s hearts aching.
The last note dies away in darkness.
No one moves a muscle.
The poised violin leaves them spellbound.
They barely realize that when it falls,
She is gone.
That music will never play again
Though is wasn’t fully vanquished.
The music of her ghost lives on
Inside the heart of one small child
Who heard the music of the night.
|
