Photo: blackwhiteanddraw.com
You were always highly strung,
tense to a C,
higher than my G,
your tailpiece was sure fine,
and your finger board?
Well, what can I say?
When my bow struck your strings
your F holes resounded
as I played you with such finesse.
©Paul Vincent Cannon
Paul,
pvcann.com
Filed under Free Verse, music, poem, Quadrille
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