The bow beneath my quivering fingers flows
To ooze melodic strains from curving wood
The melody of friendship darts and slows
The rhythmic pattern throbs the way it should

And memories are caught of photo-static times.
My curls can thwart the camera’s hopeful end
As can the shadows of orchestral rhymes
Or crisply blouséd shoulders of my friend.

I know of her too much to tell aloud
For she and I have shared our deeper dreams
Of how we feel alone within a crowd
Or how true love is never what it seems.

Together now we join a greater group
I beside my peers will trembling play
The horsehair in a barely ending loop
Until we’ve seen soft dusk conclude the day.

Only she might know my jittered voice
And know to see the face behind my mask
As now we join to make symphonic voice
Two solo parts, to harmonize the task.