Bled sulla Sua Passione Viola

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she sat down
after years of holiday
and endless excuses
to caress her one
true love
again
like when they
would dance together
in the sweetness
of their music

the infinite distance
of who she was
and who she is
pains her
and her lover
no longer responds
the way he
or she
used to

so she screams
in minors
while her spirit
longs for
the kiss of majors
but the strings are tired
and can't carry the burden
of her soul
the way that she does

alas, she sheds a tear
and dreams of Bach
and how her arms
melted into fingers
and bows
and danced
across the frets
pirouetting like
Pavlova's last ballet