Πέμπτη 19 Σεπτεμβρίου 2019

The Cello


I was traveling with a cello on my back.
I landed my feet on the City of Music.
At last!
I would become a cellist!
Being so eager to study.

I set the cello free from its case.
I saw a victim of abuse in front of me.
Scars on its sexy curves.
Messy hair instead of shinning strings.
A tortured stiletto heel at the place of the endpin.

It would recover.
It could regain its sparkling aura.

As long as it was not confined in any case, from now on.
It would learn to breath.

I had faith in the cello.
The cello, after all, was me.



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