The virtuoso played with a beginner.
He knew that she could learn to make notes sing.
In hearing her he thought he heard a glimmer
of that which causes melody to ring.
Even through the screeching he stood by her,
so certain that his pain was soon to end.
But finally frustration turned to anger;
she couldn’t learn his way, he couldn’t bend.
One final day she came to see the teacher.
She tried to understand all that he said.
He took his strings and wrapping tight around her
violin, pulled, strangling it till dead.