• His Song

    He breaths in deep to prepare himself
    Placing the wondrous musical weapon to his shoulder.
    He raises the bow and pauses
    Lowering it slowly to make contact with the strings
    Then the orchestra of one begins.

    The sound is soft and sweet
    Yet somehow sorrowful.
    It touches the soul
    Gently with care.
    Then slows.
    The music seems to pause
    Then pick up in a quicker beat

    His song gains an intensive edge
    I almost fall out of my seat
    Suddenly the tempo looses its pace
    Only to slow once more
    It steadies
    One last note is played
    And the song is closed.

    Unfinished.
    Missing a final part
    Will he ever finish it?
    I can only wonder
    For I won’t ask.
    He’ll let me know.

    Unfinished yet beautiful
    Too gentle and captivating to forget
    The rhythm was etched in my mind
    The instrument is lowered
    And he turns
    Flashing a grin in my direction.

    A beautiful mystery
    This is his song.