Violin Of Love

My love is a violinist
and I the violin.
With loving hands he places me,
tenderly beneath his chin.

The bow is smoothly drawn across,
the sleeping strings awake.
Producing music soft and sweet,
of which our souls partake.

The beauty of the music,
comes not from the violin,
But by the lovers hand,
and his yearning soul within.

He partners with the instrument,
Integral to the bow.
While hearts and souls meld as one,
and passions ever grow.