Gabriella Franco Poems
The Touch Of The Master's Hand
’Twas battered and scarred, and the auctioneer
Thought it scarcely worth his while
To waste much time on the old violin,
But he held it up with a smile.
“What am I bidden, good folk? ” he cried,
“Who’ll start the bidding for me?
“A dollar—a dollar—then two, only two—
“Two dollars, and who’ll make it three?
“Going for three”—but no—
From the room far back, a gray-haired man
Came forward and picked up the bow,
Then, wiping the dust from the old violin,
And tightening the loosened strings,
He played a melody pure and sweet
As a caroling angel ...
I Shouldn'T, And Smile
I find that when I'm near you
Music has no sound
Lovers have no pleasure
And the king loses his crown
I find that when i see you
Breathing gets hard to do
Love is not a comfort
'Cuz i shouldn't fall for you