I wrote this poem awhile back, after reading my first version of 'Gypsy Violin'. It took several writings, but I think I like this version of the poem best.

The bow is raised
The fingers poised
A slight smile crosses her face
As the first strains of the guitar soar.
The violin strings quiver
As the bow dances madly across the strings.

The night is filled with the sound of
A gypsy violin.

Stamping feet, clapping hands
And whirling figures circle the fire.
The melody soaring high and higher
As gypsies joyfully dance
Reveling in crystal tones.

The night is filled with the sound of
A gypsy violin.

Her eyes close. . .
The music flows from her soul
Embracing the night, calling to the stars.
The gypsy woman's heart is full
Of music that creates her world.

The night is filled with the sound of
A gypsy violin.

The song grows, faster, louder,
Fingers flying, dancing, leaping!
The violin sings-one with its master-
Until the last chord sounds.

The night is filled with the sound of
A gypsy violin.