[Image by Richard Brocken]
It calls to her, prisoner in cage of
fabric. Freedom it needs, freedom to sing
out its soul, a tale of ancestors; kings
and queens in stories of crafted wood. Love
made the captive and from love its voice, dove-
like rises until hawk-like soars, ring
of clouds a halo to its sound. Nothing
can surpass this created beauty of
music come from fingers rapid, mere flesh
and bone upon strings of metal gliding,
guiding the instrument to its fullness.
Released from its protective cage, a mesh
to save, together they play; an embrace
through which to reach the spheres. Lend them your ears.
[Copyright © N R Nolan 2016]