Saturday, 9 March 2013

The Tuneless Violin

I cannot be this one you see,
Many facets make this ruby gleam,
Blood runs red through my veins,
Cut it open but blue surface remains -

I am one like you,
Yet so different from the time,
I have a proverbial silver spoon,
Though it's not related to dimes -

Music flows through me,
My fingers make the sound,
Plucking each string of this violin,
I cry unheard, unsound.