By Simply Shelby

Roses in the vase
Tea in the pot
Violin in its case
Fastened taut

Dainty drapes
Edged with lace
One black cape
A mask for his face

The fire's lit
Violin's beside
The place to sit
A place to hide

The bow is raised
The strings are coaxed
The notes aren't praised
The notes aren't hoaxed

The door is latched
The drapes are drawn
The candle's matched
The man is gone

Roses on the ground
The man is dead
Violin is found
And played for bread