The Violinist
by Julie E. Jones
Life is like a violin
God puts into our hand,
From the strings the bow will
Draw a tune each heart demands.
With age the hand will tremble
On the bow it weakly holds,
Producing tunes of sharps and flats,
Of cherished dreams grown old.
Ah, how sweet the song could be
If we had learned in youth,
And on our violins played love,
God's universal truth.
No comments:
Post a Comment