Alice rubs her belly
And picks up the violin
The strings are broken
And rest on the bridge
The sound is brittle
Like husks of corn
Cut off at the tip
It is like cats singing
But I do not protest
I like to see her play
I would not like to be the person
Who ruins her fun
Her tiny fingers
Caress the frets
She looks content
Peaceful and happy
I like keeping our world
This way
It feels complete
Not a place to die
But a place to live
She puts down the violin
We will eat cake
And drink sweet tea
Today we made music
Tomorrow we will sing.
