Sweet Violin

Up the narrow staircase I climb

A dusty black case is what I find

Reaching my pocket for the key 

Twisting the lock and open before me

Carved red wood, four steel strings

slender bow  to make it sing

I rest my chin, sway away

with the instrument I used to play

I was young when I first bowed

Though it was slightly hard to hold

But with my wrist and music sheet

The violin sang joyful and sweet

Abandoned the day I left

Had it eyes it would've wept

As it aged in its case

Hoping I'd rest my chin on its face

Wait it did, till seven years passed

Here we are united at last

And as I bow its strings again

I know I am forgiven

By: Mari Begonia A. Cinco, Filed under Literary