Poem a day for 28 April 2018: In the arms of an instrument

I wasn’t sure what kind of poem I was going to rescue from today’s jumble of words: both pages of text were short so the vocabulary pot wasn’t very big. And of course there were the usual pronoun/verb/tense challenges that I’ve come to know, expect and even love!

So this demure little rescuee slipped from pages 279 and 43 of The Devourers and Marie Tarnowska respectively, both by Annie Vivanti Chartres.

In the arms of an instrument

Now she is at rest,
her coffin shut solemnly
like her old violin-case,
hidden by flowers
as magnificent as the variations
she could play;
she was the violin
holding the key of the strings
holding the key to locked doors
that opened as you listened,
beckoned you in
and lifted you up to die in this
single
treasured
moment.