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the echo of strings from the busy street it rings as rosiny dust fills the air a melody, calm, slow, almost still a lone pigeon stops to stare    
I've felt only sadness all my life I play the violin so I don't feel the strife Its wooden veneer hides my pain And the bow glides across the violins' vein  Such a beautiful sound it emanates
So I'll play my violin A scale, G scale, D and E Begins caving. Up and down the staff I'll go As the oceans flood and flow As the world is burning, burning I will play what I'd been learning.
Going through the scales That I remember so well The callouses on my fingertips There since childhood You always remember your first violin The squeaky strings And stretched horse hair
G D A E The strings that tie me to my happiness  Lives on my 2005 American Treasure The shining wood as rich and brown as my skin The bow hair that is as strong as my hair  As strong as my passion and love 
Polished wooden boards A bow string of fine horse hair Across the metal string   Release the rich sound Sing, cry, roar, whisper, scream sound Breathe, speak, and tell us  
The say you need food, They say you need water, But is that really all you need? Without those things, living is harder.   Starting violin at age 9 it was just practice all the time
A piece of wood so finely tuned, Vibrating strings tightly wound, Strands of horsehair stretched so tight, Oh, how I find so much delight!   Making music from the heart,
With delicate fingers An ancient song is woven from the soils of melancholy and ambition Notes articulated each to their own Black ink expressed with charisma on the white parchment
She plays a love song to the waves as they gently kiss the sand; She plays a waltz to the palm trees as they dance in unison; She plays a lullaby to the setting sun
  My name is the syncopated beat Of a dotted eighth note, sixteenth note Rocking like a boat on windy waters   My laugh is the swoop of glissando Sometimes a delicate slide
As I pick up my violin, And rosin the bow, I feel ready to let the music free, One small note, Then a scale, One by one, The notes fly, And when the last note turns to mute,
Freedom Strings     For weeks I’d practice In the dark of night Guilty of malpractice
Befriended street lamps' static humTimed steps slashed through electric buzzFled from the dawn's grey stainchased night with anxious breath                                              erupting
so treacherous is thismusic and its blissso hopeful was II would never trysomething to shareis always theresomething to fearis always herewhy tell if we knowit's been a show
Music might help with it's melodies, However it is still has no effect, Still there are no remedies. Just songs to select.   Some might say it is a cure. Some might say it is a place.
My violin, my dearest friend, my sweet lover.
  i met an ivory-toothed monster he said "hello" and sang some notes i found comfort in his beautiful tone i found comfort in the things that we wrote   i remember his ebony bones
While walking past your dim lit window, I see you on your tippy toes, A violin in hand. You sway to unheard rhythms, Songs which I would die to know.   Flash back, a solo in the Hall.
Fingers dancing up and down your smooth neck Bow gliding across your strings Sweetly playing the most beautiful song Starting at near silence Slowly getting louder and louder and louder And faster and faster
My love... Your eyes strum compositions too complex to ever interpret with harmonious strings... rainbow violins, played by cosmic kings You... are a musical piece too delicious to swallow Guitars made out of chocolate...
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