The bow glides the strings,
And the silent hall stands,
Listening to its song.
Her fingers dance the strings
And the bow dips down,
As she dances along,
Softly swaying in her own dance
As she plays the notes.
A voice joins her in the room,
it starts off silent, a whisper, then grows,
Then the hands clap,
And the violinist continues her dance,
Oblivious to the words.
She listens as the melody carries them on,
The violin plays its part in the well-rehearsed routine.
and she closes her eyes, counting the beats,
The dance continues as she plays,
The room rippling with the music.
Feet take to the floor around her,
They whirl in coloured fabric,
And she sways,
Her black garments, hidden in the colour.
She lets the notes dance, as time stands still,
the dancers stop,
and she is alone on the stage,
the bow dipping and rising,
her hand shaking the strings.
Then the voice stops
and she opens her eyes,
The crowd rumble with noise, just for her,
Echoing and standing, and watching, amazed.
She smiles and raises her bow high,
Her face full of smiles,
As she continues her dance.