The return of the violins

Grave,
Like dark nocturnes
That fill gravity with shame.

It was out,
While it wished,
It had never been inside.

The fragile solo
Of the elegant flute remained,
And left a mist of melancholy.

All wanted to hear
The flirting of the violins,
But the bass kept interrupting
With its erected pomposity.

The drums all came together
and trampled innocence,
Whilst running towards crescendo.

They all radiated
steamy red and black

Just before the final shot,
All held their breath:

The triangle finally succeeded!

Liberation!

The army of possessed trumpets
All showed their dusty honor

The cello sang his silent requiem and left the stage

All mourned
For the sacrifice
Of the sax

But short

Because the violins had returned.