literature

The Rebirth of the Bass

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crimpsonlilly's avatar
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Literature Text

The Rebirth of the Bass


Against the white wall,
In an empty, forgotten corner,
The double bass stands straight up tall.
As I glance its way, it dreams of symphonies, and concertos,
And a young girl in red who pulled fresh new strings
In deep tones on Christmas day.
How the memory sings to my fingers!
The reverberating cry pierces through from the past,
When the sound was born.
The worn wood stretches toward my hands.
I forget that time has passed.
The bow swallows my fingers into a rich, strong sound.
It envelopes everything.
Tales of an ancient world grip me around the neck,
And promise not to let go until I relent.
With a triumphant glow, it has elicited life again;
And, as the bass, I smile, so have I.
My mother.
© 2009 - 2024 crimpsonlilly
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