Violin
There once was a violin
A simple violin
The violin played beautifully
It's strings strung tightly
It's melody pure
But never as sure as the Grand Piano
No matter how tightly the strings drawn
No matter how finely tuned
It could never play like piano true
Till one day the strings snapped
No matter though
Give it new strings
The old strings broken
The violin will still sound the same
The songs the same
The look the same
The player the same
But the strings are different
Not that you noticed
This poem is about:
Me
Poetry Terms Demonstrated: