sound-post broken
disintegrated glue
loosened tarnished strings
that shall never sing again
this violin upon my wall
too fragile to play
it lays silent
but while my mother lived
this violin lived too
and the bow across it
in its glory days
too well do I remember
the sounds
harmony and laughter
melody
sweet, its lullabies
and angry, crashing Wagner --
for it knew many songs
"Impossible to repair",
the luthier says
so I gaze upon it
and in my memory
I see the motion of the bow
hear the magic resonance
feel the enchantment
of the music
it once made
