Poem: My Violin, Garlanded with Flowers…

My violin, garlanded with flowers
Like a boat, pushed out into the lake.
HamptonCourtWater trickles into its curvy belly
It sinks, with ripples which roll to shore.

Like a boat, pushed out into the lake
It turns on the current, pushed up and down.
It sinks with ripples which roll to shore
It is gone, disappeared, vanished.

It turns on the current, pushed up and down
I feel the tears burning my eyes.
It is gone, disappeared, vanished,
My guide silently touches my arm.

I feel the tears burning my eyes,
I have loved my violin for 34 years,
My guide silently touches my arm,
“It is time to let go,” she says.

I have loved my violin for 34 yearsViolin
– I poured out my soul –
“It is time to let go,” my guide says,
So I follow her back to the forest.

I poured out my soul.
I learned to bow with precision and grace.
I follow my guide to the forest,
Where I sink into grief.

I learned to bow with precision and grace,
My fingers jumped with agility and ease,
I sink into grief:
For I could never play to perfection.

My fingers jumped with agility and ease,
But were not precise, my notes were off,
For I could never play to perfection,
The sound I made, not beautiful.

My fingers not precise, my notes were off,
I hated playing so badly.
The sound I made, not beautiful,
But I strived, struggled for years.

I hated playing so badly,
It filled me with misery,
But I strived, struggled for years
Until it was time to let go.

It fills me with grief and misery,
(Water trickles into my violin’s belly)
But it is time to let go of
My beloved violin, garlanded with flowers.

–Cynthia Haggard writes poetry, novels and short pieces.  During the day, she is a medical writer.  For more about her medical writing services, go to clarifyingconcepts.  For more on her creative writing, go to spunstories. (c) 2009. All rights reserved.

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