The Luthier

November 9, 2015

Careful, nimble fingers
Remove her moonstone ring
And crack their knuckles in
Grinning anticipation:
This is her labor of love.

When first she started,
These thin planks and pegs
Were a tall maple, steadfast
Against time and winters
Generations old.

Each carving, each shred of
Timber lost is important;
The way her arms manipulate
Her tools and the wood is a
Testament to her skill.

The smell of wood glue fills
Her workspace, rosin and hope
Hold her together now. She is
As solid as the instruments
She so skillfully renders.

Now, finally, she can see
The finished product: each
String in place, bridge holding
More than just music, but also
My heart along with it.


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