Were I to gather
the rarest of woods,
matchsticks in multitude,
and vintage amber lac,
I would set to the building of that Strad,
its secrets laid bare by an angel.
And in its voice would be your intonations.
And in its resonance, the beat of your living heart.
Photo: Eastman Strings
2 responses to “In memory”
This is a stunning poem. Stunning. Thank you!
LikeLiked by 2 people
Thank you, Gael 💜