Linda Stewart

The Cello

The cello
voluptuous and grand
sings to me of sadness
born of time’s transient glory
It weeps with the years
and mourns in the ages
speaking longingly
to the inner depths of the soul
with every sweep of the bow
across taut sinewy strings
then it shouts in triumph
and fairly skips with light-hearted
gaiety to lift the heart
to match its own buoyant mood
reminiscent of little girls
in pigtails and flowing dresses
running through fields of daisies
then … slow and descending
like a forgotten lover
down a spiralling staircase
melancholy and troubled.

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