(Draft.... Three?)
She –
With her black
shimmering hair
and pale slender fingers –
cradles an exquisite
violin.
Dark as midnight
and grasping the bow,
She
unfetters
a string of notes
They slid into the
air
reaching out and promising
comfort
Only wanting the
listening minds
of the audience
Hypnotically
They gaze back at her
with blank eyes.
The notes f a
d e
into
silence
when
she begins to play
a
slow and sweet tune.
The
wave delicately kissed the audience.
Snuggling
in their ears and whispering affectionately.
Warm
smiles populate their faces
And
they listen closer.
She
withheld a serene expression
as
she played,
swaying
and singing with her violin.
The
newly captivated audience
followed
with their enlightened ears and brightening eyes
He
strode onto the stage.
His
disarray of gold hair shadowing his closed eyes.
Gripping
his violin and surly sawing.
Anguish
rising
up from him
screaming.
His
music lashed into the air.
Resonating
deeply. Angrily.
Whipping
to no avail.
His
fingers flew with raw emotions
Bow
strokes strong
clipped
and quick.
He
leaned with his rage,
stomping
and lunging,
shuddering
with sick pleasure
at
the empowerment of his
malicious
legion of notes
that suppressed her sweet
melodious
life
to
oblivion.
The notes crashing
plowing
into each other.
Catastrophe
Mayhem
The
air charged with strong energy
striking
and utterly shocking.
The
watching eyes.
Jaws
slack.
Ears
assaulted.
Minds
closing.
No
protection
from
such a feral musician.
He
was playing with such negativity and rage
that
it seemed she could do little
to
quench it.
And
they watched,
as
he opened his eyes and found her.
For
a short moment
he
stopped.
Their eyes connected.
They
held
and
looked.
Gales
of silence snuffed out any noise,
any
rebounding notes
any
thoughts.
The
pale green pools of her eyes
mingling with stark blue.
Breaths
in correlation with the other.
Her
eyes watching his
with compassion
and determination.
And
his bore into hers with unobtainable madness.
She
spoke one word.
But
with it was a plethora of good intent.
The
single syllable blended with the silence
And
reached his ears with timid fingers,
Please.
Their
eyes held each other.
She
swept up her violin
and began playing.
He
didn't dare close his eyes.
He
dared to listen.
The
audience sat it awe.
Eyes lingering on him.
Ears
lapping up her lyrical affections.
Watching
as
he was stripped of his anger.
She
eased away the pain.
Her
notes
caressed
his heart
and kissed his mind
He
was in rapture.
(Draft Seven(final))
She
cradles an exquisite,
dark as midnight , violin,
unfettering a string of notes.
They
reach out into the emptiness,
shimmering,
glorious and pure.
Alive
with rhythm and purpose,
filling
an empty space with beauteous melodies.
He
strode onto the stage gripping his bow and surly sawing. Anguish
rising up from him,
screaming his notes into the air.
Resonating deeply. Angrily. Cruelly loud and powerful. His fingers
flew with raw emotions.
Bow
strokes strong
clipped
and
quick.
The
notes crashed,
plowing into each other.
Catastrophe.
Mayhem.
The air charged with strong energy.
Striking and utterly shocking.
Their
eyes connected.
The pale green pools of her eyes
mingling
with stark blue,
watching with compassion
and
determination.
His
bore into hers with unobtainable madness.
Their eyes held each other.
She swept up her violin
and
began playing.
Her lyrical affections caressing
his
musical mind and heart,
He
couldn't look away.
