There you sit
Upon your unmade bed
Tuning your violin
And I, as your captive audience,
Am sitting on the floor
Waiting patiently
For the concert to begin
Then you start to play
Every note like a drop of rain
Or a tear shed for joy
Fell upon my soul
Every ounce of emotion you had
Flowed through the strings
Like for giant telephone lines
Connected directly to my heart
Then as suddenly as it began
The music stopped
My heart and soul sank
Even quicker than the Titanic
You rose from your unmade bed
Placing your violin cafefully
On your goose down pillow
As if it were a Stradivarius
You walk to the window
There you stared out into the distance
Tears rolled down your cheeks
As you turn to speak
"I just wanted to give you
One last thing before I leave -
My music."