The Strings remain
An unlikely union
Of taut twine
And teasing bow,
Sound soaring
Like notes on wings.
Everlasting hollow wood
Releases its gift;
A complex geometry
Tracing audible curves;
An inner symphony
Of echoes on air.
Plaintive and pure
Artisans of music;
The teacher is taught
Let songbirds sing
And memories fly
All the way home.
whoisfenton 