The cello
speaks more
of sorrow
than joy-
she has depth
at her heart-
tears of hers
they sacredly flow-

every single note
born from the throe
of silent love
stirs the longing heart
that awaits its blessing
upon the morrow--

when the night closes in
and light gleams through the window
another tale of love unrequited
will be retold as has been long ago