Fingers & Strings

I am the space between your fingers and the strings,
played with intensity.

No beau will make me sing,
like the way you pluck my strings.
Pizzicato,
Strong vibrato,
It's the deep bass which carries the melody.

Come hither my lengthy fellow,
Won't you be my cello?
For when we play I dance -
Not to mistake for romance.

I let you be the man,
And watched you stand.
Just to be fair,
I'll remain in my chair.
Cradle you like a child,
with a scissor-like grip,
I'm not quick to let you slip from my tightly wound vise.

Rest your neck to the right,
I want to hear you sing through the baseboard's ring,
And there you will be....
The space between my strings.