In the quiet of the night, a violin weeps,
Its strings sing tales of love and loss,
Each note a droplet of a midnight sea,
A serenade to the moon, soft and gloss.

The piano, a grand storyteller of old,
With keys that unlock dreams untold,
Its melodies drift like autumn leaves,
Through whispers of time, rich and bold.

A flute joins in with a gentle breeze,
A silver tongue that speaks to the trees,
It dances with the shadows and light,
In a forest where harmony never ceases.

Together they weave a tapestry fine,
Musical threads in a delicate line,
Instruments in a choir, voices in rhyme,
Crafting a symphony transcending time.