A Carpenters Violin


  
From the first step, waddling along
The sound of music played to a cutting saw
Chisels tapping to a beat, like drums repeat
Shaving slivers that curl like the wind
Creating curves that resembles a figure
Rounded bottom to a waist with hips
Breasted top where the neck rests
Strung from the eyes to see beyond time
Through the heart, to where it knots
A bow, that glides over
Creates friction, so it cries
Swooning the echoes in the air to rise
It dips back down to a mellow tone
Only to rise again but this time alone
Every note made, created in love
Fingers bled from cats gut
Practice, practice, never getting it right
The dog howls, sadly, the mice scurry, madly
A reflection in art
Made by hands that understands
The shape brings the grace
The mind brings the know how
The touch brings the sound
To a carpenters violin

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