I hold it in my lap.
Wrap my arms around its small, curvy body.
My warm neck intertwines with the hard wood.
I cradle it’s still body.
I rock it with my quivering one.
Neck to neck, body to body.
My heart lines up with the instrument’s open hole and it’s plain to see
We are both hollow inside.
A shell of what could’ve been or once was.
Strings are held taut over the circular opening,
like a personal jail cell.
I’ll be your cellmate.
Your soul mate.
Will you show me what she taught you?
Do you remember the music she wrote with you?
Could you play for me the music that was in her heart?