She was beautiful,
her eyes: light flooding
into night. It took her

time, but she realized
there was more to life
than her rusted violin strings,

that sometimes love
was more than laughter
floating in the air likemusic

bubbles. And she was beautiful,
even as she laid broken
in pieces in front of him.

She was beautiful
when she cried,
and when she didn’t

she was beautiful metal
shining. Now, she hears
music in her daughter’s voice;

she sees her worth
in the lives she’s changed,
and when it’s late

she closes her eyes,
relaxing on the shoulders
of music she never made.

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