the gracious curves
of her sides
lend a towering shape
the drawn out neck
and steady legs
caress my eyes
in crescendo
her voice calls out
within the realm
of wood and strings
and lips
to study the curve
of her waist
and watch the bow
of my fingers
tracing each string
fortissimo at long last
she slumps into
the strength of my arms
and my ears cannot stand
the vibrating cries
my rosin drenched
quake upon her nape
and the fugue stops slowly
only to begin again
in themes
and variations