The Fiddle

Tess

There comes that girl again
With the icey blue eyes.
Her fingers crawling over me,
Running up and down me.

Beautiful sounds we do make,
Gently slithering like a snake.
Sounds of joy and sounds of sorrow.
Will she get me out again?

Days and days and days have passed.
Will she ever come?
her fingers sliding over me,
Running up and down me.
Her touch with the bow makes me sing!
Squeak! When she hits the wrong note.
This does not happen a lot.

My case  is my coffin,
Holding my music and I in.
The case keeps her out,
I want out! Out! OUT!

I love when I am left out of my case,
To watch the wrold go by.
Oh! Here she comes!
Will she play me today?

There comes that girl again
With the rough and calloused hands.
Fingers caressing me,
Fingers that make me sing.