The Strings

She carves an epic with her hands
Vibrating on a bow
A horse's hair and rosin
Enchant the audience below
Retelling ancient battles
Mythic, legendary lovers; kings, queens, and average Joe
Placing time inside a bubble
Expounding as it grows
With her magic halting
The pernambuco and ebony slows
Endless rows rise with roses
And writers shower her with prose