You disbelieved me initially,
Because the melody was so striking
And effectively invoked.
The sent of the rosin was
Tangy and citrus that evening,
And I was a chamber orchestra
For an entire world of one.
My meter was forward,
And my fingertips plucked the strings
Just so,
Sounds caressing behind your ears.
I found the proper tuning on the neck
And worked gold around my hands,
Pressing into the song,
And drinking nectar in the air.
As each sweep of the bow
Sent the rosin's perfume
Deep into my nose, it was as if an orchard
Hung dripping dew from the blossoms,
And I could lick sweet honeysuckle from
My fingers as the chords echoed in
Between us and wrapped around my hand.
"Bravo," came your soft reply.
"Encore," said I.
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