Friends and Phrases

And golden notes from silver strings,
Told of stories bold and wondrous things.
Hands nimble and quick played the violin,
Which sang of things yet to begin.

It came high like the voice of a bird,
And low like a soft spoken word.
The clarinet's mellow tones spoke of seasons,
Swift movements and laughing eyes the reasons.

From far away and all around,
In the air and beneath the ground.
The saxophone howled and laughed and cried,
Singing of things done and dreamed and tried.

They played together all at once,
For they'd known each other many months.
And so they sang, each their own way.
May they go on singing, till the last day.