Tied tight, never to fray.
Affixed within a tortoise shell
Strummed by the hands of a Muse so they say
Calmer than a drum and softer than a bell.
Many sailors have heard the songs of a siren
Their watery deaths a tribute to her singing.
But nothing compares to that miniscule harp, not even the work of the great Byron.
Sounds sweet enough to silence an infant’s crying.
This gift granted from the sun above
That man who quelled Hades’ deadly fire.
With his fingers soothed hell’s savage beast for his love
He won back his love, but in the end lost what he truly desired.
That instrument’s music shall glow in the darkest of caves like the shine from a sapphire.
A tune played upon a lyre.