There once was a place, a moment in time,
Specifically planned in God’s great design,
Where I crossed paths with a special young man.
On the corner of River Street I saw him stand.
His talent was music and music he played,
I stopped in my tracks and there my heart stayed.
The melody swayed and the dynamics swelled,
It carried me somewhere outside of myself.
When the piece came to an end, he stood regal and poised.
I wanted to speak but could not find my voice.
“You play s-so well,” I finally stuttered.
“Thank you,” he smiled, and my heart fluttered.
I wanted to talk longer; I asked how long he’d played.
“Eight years,” he replied, and I felt the moment fade.
To stand there forever was all I could think,
But that would be strange. He didn’t know me from Eve.
So we exchanged smiles but not numbers or names,
And quietly, reluctantly, I walked away.
I told what I saw and the tale now is finished;
Thus ends the story of my mystery violinist.