Language Without Words

Curves of wood, curves of ink

Into my mind the music does sink

Out of the yore which shadows drink

Here moon's eye calls

Music rises, music falls

Light slides along varnished walls

Violin's body becomes sound's hall

Corridors echoing song

It dances along the taut silver strings

With an angeled sound, like star's bright wings

Caress of bow makes melody sing

All in harmony

Pen, paper, song without name

Ebony, chrome, song without shame

Romantic, Baroque, never the same

Crossing time