A poem
dusty violin
tucked in the corner
forgotten
I was once cradled
lovingly in a child’s arms
her fingers plucking my strings
filling the room
with a joyful melody
her dream to become
a virtuoso
parents beaming with pride
a promising future
but dreams often fade
interests shifting
I was stored away
now I sit in silence
yearning to be played
longing for those notes
to dance through the air
and bring life
to this inanimate form
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