Violin Girl

There was a girl; she had a dream, to push a bow, to FiNgEr a string,

The girl worked hard to play a song, and the rest of the music just came along,

She pushed her instrument to hum the beat; her gorgeous vibrato was no small feat,

Practice of pLaY, wastes every day, till the hair on the violin girl turned grey,

She stood to feel the music best, till her old concerto heart needed a rest,

Note by note, frail passed through her bones, But with age she gained all the right tones,

Now also a child, the music enjoys, because the violin girl, raised a violin boy,

The violin girl died a violin lover, but the violin boy missed his violin mother,

For this reason, he quit his pLaY; the music reminded him every day,

Of the woman that filled his heart with song, playing her notes, to him, felt wrong,

But in truth, the wrong one was he, the violin girl in the sky, couldn’t happier be,

 Because up top she met a violin man, His name was God; he was her biggest fan,

Well she and God played, till her son did hear, so he listened close, knowing mother was near,

The notes said be happy, and practice hard, Let the music heal, don’t be scarred,

So the sorrowful son, again picked up his favorite toy,

An old violin, for the violin boy.

-Brooklynn Bosworth