Taunt fingers touch the strings
All musings of pain forgotten
Weightlessly they float over and again
In a delicate repetitious pattern
 

An effort to drill out all other thoughts
Nothing else is said or done
Only music can be heard
The steady rhythm of a master
 

Although it is a sweet melody
They make a solemn sound
It influences this atmosphere
To that of an eerie silence
 

A bittersweet symphony
It embodies the emptiness
Of her vacant emotions
And black stare of the eye
 

Nothing changes except the tempo
Her fingers dance more rapidly now
But I cannot feel a mounting excitement
There is no connection of string and soul