"The Violinest Who Had Nothing To Say" By: Cassandra Freiborg 6/24/05

The cry of a violin,

is heard in the night,

it sounds of a child crying,

a dove taking flight.

Behold the musician,

wild yet tamed,

the music he plays,

brings him no shame.

He stands before you,

fingers scarred but slender,

and watch as they dance,

it's music they render.

The notes are entrancing,

the music so sad yet sweet,

wrapping you in sensations,

covering like a sheet.

He smiles at you,

and continues to play,

the melody changes softly;

you've nothing to say.

So you observe him while,

he plays his violin,

you sense something,

whats different about him?

His features are ragged,

and his clothes look rather grimy,

yet when you look at his eyes,

they are happy and shiny.

"What makes you play?"

You manage to ask,

he looks at the ground,

his tempo becomes fast.

The strings make a horrible,

screaching sound,

the man drops his violin,

and it hits hard on the ground.

You watch in shock,

as he drops to his knees,

gathers up his violin,

and walks away down the street.

You stand there and watch him,

as he walks away,

you're suprised,

when he turns around to say.

"Miss I'm not quite sure,

why I play violin,

but I cant help but feel,

that my life seems rather dim.

I come to this area,

to play for strangers,

then when I'm done,

I return to my chambers.

And I sit there for hours,

writing music to play,

but when it comes to conversation,

I've nothing to say."

He turned away again,

and walked down the street,

you stand there smiling,

what an interesting person to meet!

You call back to the man,

"You've nothing much to say,

this much is true,

but the most important thing is to just be you!

You're notes are quite beautiful,

and if I may be as so bold to say,

you say everything you need to,

with those melodies you play."