Playing sad tears from the bow of horse hair you wield so well. Strings hear the echoes of your many sorrows, as they become vibrations and sounds, to ripple along your ivory skin. Memories of your lovers flow into the wood to haunt the many players of your violin.
Published by C and K Words
Human | Lawyer | Poet | Story Spinner | Finding inspiration everywhere | Writing poetry and words from different spaces and places | Photographing nature and things | View all posts by C and K Words