the gracious curves of her sides lend a towering shape the drawn out neck and steady legs caress my eyes in crescendo her voice calls out within the realm of wood and strings and lips to study the curve of her waist and watch the bow of my fingers tracing each string fortissimo at long last she slumps into the strength of my arms and my ears cannot stand the vibrating cries my rosin drenched fingertips quake upon her nape and the fugue stops slowly only to begin again in themes and variations