(This poem came from the daily prompt offered at http://www.napowrimo.net/ . For the past several days, I’ve been having a musical affair with the cello. This seemed like an appropriate tribute.)
Like wine made from the finest grapes,
You pour over me and I am drunk with your sound.
Your perfect fifths, your likeness to the human male voice
Strums my heart-strings until I am enslaved by your gentle power.
You tie me up in your strings and I am yours.
Master, Master, where’s the dream that I’ve been after?
I’m pulling your strings.
I wonder what Bach would think of what you’ve become?
Prelude to a 16th century Suite,
Yet you have crossed over into heavy metal darkness.
Oh beautiful darkness, my sweet cello!
Bind me to your soul and rock me to sleep again!