My Lost Music

A poem of inner reconnection and the salvaging of a lost passion.

He spots it by chance. 

Resting on the sill, bathed in the last, rosy glow of the setting sun.

A violin, its strings covered in a dust that was once his.

He remembers when it was taken away from him,

how a night of broken promises stole his music

and left him silent.

Time has passed, and with it, so much feeling.

but here it lies again, an echo of who he used to be.

His hands tremble as he lifts it into his arms.

The dust seems to dissolve under his fingertips

like sorrow finally letting go.

He draws the bow across the strings,

sound blooms warm and familiar,

a lullaby he thought he’d forgotten.

Tears well, unasked for, as if joy itself

is leaking through the cracks in his chest.

In that moment, he reclaims what was lost,

each note rising like breath after too long underwater.

He closes his eyes, letting the music cradle him.

A single tear falls onto the instrument’s worn surface.

Illuminated by the twilight, a quiet testament

to finding what was once taken, and letting it sing again.