The Old Violin

I touched those strings,
They were loose to sing.

Time made them weak.
Weak, so weak,
That it was no more music
Which they produced.
It was noise!

I touched those strings
With pain.

Time had the same effect on me!
I was weak,  so weak
That it was no more work
Which I did.
It was disturbance which I created!

We both were discarded objects.
The only difference was,
I could weep.
But it could not!