She cried for all the broken hearts,
Painted everlasting winters –
Floral patterns etched in ice;
A frozen tear to
Soften up the bastard bones.
Bow made love to needy string
In cooing fling – wanton whispers
Fondled under pianissimos,
Caressing callous hearts.
Melodrama swayed in satin sound
– Yet the player wasn’t there,
Only creamy song, soothing, yearning,
Teasing bitter minds.
I sensed her persevering loneliness
For beauty of an evening:
Romance of a tune; laughing,
Sobbing at the fire.
Then a climax –
Writhing passion cutting deep –
Wounding macho flesh,
And all in a work of musical art:
Ephemeral stories, yarned of music
Honed impossibly through her tones.
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