Sombre Violin

Under the spell of a sombre violin,
Within the shadow of a sunlit moon,
The cold wind creeps into my bones,
Conjuring shivery visions of the unknown,
To dance on the notes of a macabre tune,
That bounce off the strings of a sombre violin.

Inspiring fear the violin played on,
Emitting its notes of melancholy sin,
As sorrow waltzed with the spirits of gloom,
Creating cold from their spinning revolution,
Freezing my heart in its icey grip,
Imprisoning my soul in its deathly crypt.

As the crows cawed their cackling outtake,
Casting bleak reflections on the rippling lake,
I stood mesmerized by the cold tune aired,
Fixated by the notes the violinist shared,
That echoed around the snow-capped hills,
Booming their sound in a quadraphonic chill.

She stood there before me, so calm were her eyes,
That stared right through me, into my mind,
She read my thoughts and shared in my pain,
She entered my misery through her violin,
On the notes that she played, her sombre lament,
That rid my heart of its earthly content.

She mended my heart and took away the pain,
She freed my soul to let it soar again,
She renewed my life within her candle-flame,
Now I dance to the music of her sombre violin,
I dance within the shadows of her mausoleum womb,
Forevermore enchanted by her macabre psalm.