The Violin
Alone in an attic stored away,
without being played, untouched and neglected
There's a beautiful instrument
Waiting for someone with care to find it,
to bring life back to the silent strings
There's a feel of a warm hand on the bow,
The wood is nestled under a soft chin,
After years of still silence,
the bow's smoothe hair touches the strings
Gently gliding through the air
The silence in the room is filled with a sweet melody of harmony and peace
Shanna Renee Lane
Copyright ©2007 Shanna Renee Lane
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The poem listed above, is written by my youngest daughter, Shanna, and was recently awarded as a winner of a poetry contest on the http://poetry.com/Publications/display.asp?ID=P8300672&BN=999&PN=1 website and will be in a new book being printed up soon.
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