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My First Love
My first love,
Trailing the intervals flying off with silver wings,
Weaving a silky melody through the measures like the magical colors of a spring gale,
A sliver of doubt for perfection slips my mind,
A velvety tune enough to cure the eyes of the blind
A tune fluttering like a flake of snow,
Not a single desire for the creation to cease,
Entwining each stroke of the bow
Breathe in
1, 2, 3, 4,
Breathe out
1, 2, 3, 4,
Embracing my soul to engulf the misery, the anger, the nonchalance, the joy
All in a single piece
Tears curving each note, then illuminating to shimmer, then
Whips of fiery fury in outraged orange, roaring red
The misery of His mourning for His children through His cries
Stolen by the devil,
His fused emotions a tornado
Stirring the melancholy, miserable melody through the allegro
The omnipresent refrain like the vehement whisper of a breeze
Slithering between the stalks of grass,
So low against the ground
So bare,
As the still present melody tells the story of Eurydice,
As the snake hisses and snaps the poisonous bite,
Apollo plucking a melancholy tune in plight
Each note descending like the rippling leaves of a supple tree to a bare one
Interlocking their stems together on the way down
Tenderly stripping the piece down
Naked to its very soul
Unveiling the core of the composer
Each wisp of magic tickling to the very tip of fingers
Every thread of beauty knit so meticulously
Eighth notes peck our cheeks,
Quarter notes smooch our foreheads,
Whole notes brushing their lips against the aura,
Gluing each leaf back to the tree
From bare to green, veiling the core of the composer
Breathe in
1, 2, 3, 4
Breathe out
1, 2, 3, 4
Entwining each stroke of the bow,
Weaving a silky melody through the measures
My first love.
The cello.
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