Trio

Her heartstrings thrum as her bow bends the music to the crescendo.
The shrill feelings flow with moments of joyous pain, filling the room sweet
sad refrain.

The violin sings its melancholic lullaby until time stands almost still while the world slides
on by

His breath roars into and out of the cold brass pipes

an echo of an echo,

as if arrogance could be removed in a swipe 

 Replacing the metallic presence sounding deep down inside this horn.
The staffs and clefs reverb their disdain and their scorn.
No trumpet can ever hope to replace,

 The solid winds that the hornblower summons to fill this space

 The piano with its multitude of ebon & ivory keys stands between the two egos like a storm over ships
on the tossing seas.

Hear it rumble the bass,

Hear it roll over the chords

It surrounds the players

in its virtuoso, it knows its own reward.

The best of its companions, it is simply grand

perfectly playing

 second or third chair in the band.

Each of these pieces are as brilliant

in performance of their own part

The trio is it's own symphony

the triumph of the Art.