No Strings

The violin is back in its case
Safe on a shelf
Music leaving no trace

All the rosin has dried to snow
Stored in the closet
No longer serving its bow

Young musician has changed her mind
Other joys beg attention
New mysteries to unwind

Her eyes now hold teenager things
Planning her prom
And a life with no strings

Sheet music litters free in a drawer
No trills and scales
To battle anymore

And quietly waits the stored violin
When someone’s daughter
May want to play Fiddles on Fire again

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About Kitt

Sometimes a rhyme or couplet wanders across my consciousness. So, I share it. Other times I'm a hospice social worker; others, a Dad; others, southerner, New Orleanian, cajun enthusiast, voter, and on better days, a not-too-awful-poet/rhymster. Welcome to my page. Enjoy.

Posted on March 30, 2012, in Poem. Bookmark the permalink. Leave a comment.

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