High and pure a voice appears.

Sweet like chocolate is the voice.

The voice, sadly, floats away on a slight breeze.

The voice came from an instrument.

A silver instrument that shines like the sun,

with many keys that work well together.

The instrument is cold upon thy chin, as they begin to play, again.

A key sticks, the once sweet note turns sour in the air.

All the notes, high and low,

come out crystal clear.

The flute rests gently under thy lips

as thy breathe in for a sad note, to end the melody.