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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


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