Wasted Music

The worn, peeling violin case
Sits patiently on the shelf
Calling for someone to open it
And see the potential it holds inside;
The beautiful music it could create.
All in vain, it persists.
Please, let me play for you.

Months pass.
It has become more worn than before
But that is merely its duty.
For what does a case do
Other than protect the treasure within?
Patiently waiting
For a chance to play.

The violin inside
Is still spotless, good as new.
A beautiful instrument
That no one discovered
For no one took the time
To merely open up the case.
For that, it was wasted.

The owners threw it out.
They didn't even look inside.
Its too old, they said.
It had sat in the attic
For years and years
Harboring its heart.
No one took the time.

The echoes of mournful music
Faintly ring throughout the room.
The violin plays on
Doing what it could not
When it was there.
Its beauty is still undiscovered
Though its music still tries
To reach deaf ears...