My first love,

Trailing the intervals flying off with silver wings,

Weaving a silky melody through the measures like the magical colors of a spring gale,

A sliver of doubt for perfection slips my mind,

A velvety tune enough to cure the eyes of the blind

A tune fluttering like a flake of snow,

Not a single desire for the creation to cease,

Entwining each stroke of the bow

Breathe in

1, 2, 3, 4,

Breathe out

1, 2, 3, 4,

Embracing my soul to engulf the misery, the anger, the nonchalance, the joy

All in a single piece

Tears curving each note, then illuminating to shimmer, then

Whips of fiery fury in outraged orange, roaring red

The misery of His mourning for His children through His cries

Stolen by the devil,

His fused emotions a tornado

Stirring the melancholy, miserable melody through the allegro

The omnipresent refrain like the vehement whisper of a breeze

Slithering between the stalks of grass,

So low against the ground

So bare,

As the still present melody tells the story of Eurydice,

As the snake hisses and snaps the poisonous bite,

Apollo plucking a melancholy tune in plight

Each note descending like the rippling leaves of a supple tree to a bare one

Interlocking their stems together on the way down

Tenderly stripping the piece down

Naked to its very soul

Unveiling the core of the composer

Each wisp of magic tickling to the very tip of fingers

Every thread of beauty knit so meticulously

Eighth notes peck our cheeks,

Quarter notes smooch our foreheads,

Whole notes brushing their lips against the aura,

Gluing each leaf back to the tree

From bare to green, veiling the core of the composer

Breathe in

1, 2, 3, 4

Breathe out

1, 2, 3, 4

Entwining each stroke of the bow,

Weaving a silky melody through the measures

My first love.

The cello.