This violin held enough replication-strings to take the whole theatre on
Echo-insane
If anything get to blame these peculiarly wonder-some atom bombs of brilliance which lie right between her beautiful brain
A gentler pace altogether to set the terribly inept critics apart – front-row frozen all of their own
Prone to sudden jolts of all too infectious lightning bolts
Head-to-serendipitous toe
Close your each and every eye mid- atop back-row, let her write your particular Sunday night scripture via this hollow and agonisingly distant violin
Her pose always did seem to promise so very much

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