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The old house is deserted, empty, cold the furniture draped in dusty sheets the music room alone seems occupied. A cabinet stands silent in the dark small, shaped of many different woods A single piece of music lies within edges curled by time and stained with use. Sifting through the dimness come a thread of music, sung by voice unknown, unseen. Play me like a violin Sing me with your breath color me with all your truths flower me to life. An ancient harp just by the window stands vibrating softly to an unknown touch soft chords uplifted in response, no one there strokes the golden strings, nor gently plucks. I値l stroke you like a violin I値l pluck you with my breath I値l sing you with my golden truths I値l love you past our deaths. A cello in the corner sings a strong and deep resounding note that warms the mind. No hand or bow in sight to make his song his resonating tones sound warm and kind. I値l bow your voice to life through time Sustain you with my under tones Support you with my meter slow Reverberate your heart. In the painting on the wall, the couple seems to smile faintly as they watch their child at play. The room is hushed and still then faintly sings their daughter痴 violin. The tones so pure and clear soar sweetly out up in the air and to the world beyond. Play Me, I知 your Violin Sing Me, I知 your Harp Color Me, I知 all your Truths Hear Me, I知 your song.
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