What May Or Not Have Been
Hands like the quivering branches of a tree
Waving in the wind
Waving to the sound of the violin
Scars of history become unmasked
As her sword comes out for evening play
Drum beats and heart depletes
Eyes that pierce
Like silver knifes through my heart
She dances around my lingering thoughts
Day and night a string of nightmares begin
Of a musical love and notes that ring
I wonder what may have been
If she let me play her violin
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