The Lute stands in a corner

beautiful work of art, carved long ago, slender neck

colors of black and  gold, each string a sweet melody,

reminding me of a sweeter woman

with a curvaceous shape...her slender body

                  singing her Love songs on Moonlit nights....

for a Lover who never came

quiet sadness

a Mother's sadness....homeless woman with children

to feed,

Battered and Bruised...torn in two

Bride left at the altar,

each string pulled, a tear falls

held in my arms I felt her soul

your spirit remains

nourishing me....each chord a Kiss, for my wounded

......heart