Roselyn Edwards


Broken Strings

Smooth, riveted wood wore a bright, shiny finish;
It's strings more precious than gold;
The color was a tangy red, slightly diminish;
It's handcrafted shape, curved all around,
Alone it sat daring to make a sound,
But only the silence echoed back so profound.

The beauty it once displayed
In voice, in song, in spirit

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