While Violins Sing
I will let them take me away,
far, fast away
from this place I cherish,
yet know cannot have, so it is in their melody,
the scraping resonant nature of their plea,
I will listen and ask,
may I come along with you,
for it is here
my own tears remain a gathering storm,
until I may never feel her words again.
There is a place we are going, and the drama of each echoed
torment is my guide,
I will walk with you back toward the lonely forest,
I wish though for a solace,
certainly no reminders without allowance.