The bow: a scepter, nay, a wizard's wand.
Each minor note a key into your heart.
Devoid of an accompanying grand,
the strumming violin plays every part.
Concerto for your soul; soon, heaven's gates
swing open, and the angel, hands on chin,
is seemingly oblivious as fates,
both innocent and guilty as all sin,
stream into paradise. Hosannas pause,
the host stunned into silence... notes play on.
A figure, shadowy, appears. His paws
still smoldering; the evening has been won.
"You miss me yet?" A question, and a vow.
No hint of modesty, he takes a bow.
Author notes: https://allpoetry.com/contest/2802073-Devils-Violinist
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