This reprieve of cello,
is a suite of the lavishings of love,
that plays itself unto me,
it's bow quivering along my strings,
as my low notes of moan it brings.
This reprieve of a deep and soulful sound,
is the chamber of echo in my heart that does resound,
when your heart propounds,
the truth of what it means to be,
the sacred piece of music,
the final key in your loves symphony.
When the delicacy of your hands,
like a precious finery of china,
grasps itself upon my bow,
I feel the urgeny of you to coax in me an extol,
an insurgency to bring a virtuosity in suites of loves loosening of my control.
When the stillness of this bow transforms,
to the movement of accompaniment,
that accompanies my strings,
I quiver like the strings under it,
in the joy that your loves bow brings.
Play me as this prelude shades itself into allemande,
stradle me in loves proactive position,
this sweetest taxation of loves imposition,
that allows the crossing of a bow across my strings.
Quiver my notes along the tensiles that reside charged,
ready to be released by the strokings of your bow,
as the sacredness of your bows power,
plays my staff of loving notes,
that are written in a secret language,
the cipher of which to me you lovingly bestow.
Let the hands that clasp me,
in preparation of love and musics muse,
be ever ready to symphonically suffuse,
the trilling of notes,
that to the cupids in the heavens above amuse.
Play me and define me,
in the movements that move from slow to fast,
from fast to slow again,
a conclusion of codas that carrens upon me,
as you string the bow along me,
and make my heart with love and sonnerence sing.