A deafened ear over the years
has never stopped his dream.
Playing for cheers he can’t hear,
he sits at third and fifth by the street.
The torment of losing his wife
gives his music life—
that’s why he tries.
Bowing the strings,
he remembers her, ever so dear.
He would play and she would sing.
Memories fading, the resonance of life he feared.
His frail hands understand
his mistakes in music and as a man,
if only he can play for her again.
The crowd grows empty,
only a few dimes litter his case.
He gives the money to a nearby charity.
It was his last performance at this place.
He’s gone to heaven now,
where he plays his violin for cherub crowds.
No longer a sidewalk violinist, but an angel in the clouds.
"A tramp, a gentleman, a poet, a dreamer, a lonely fellow, always hopeful of romance and adventure." ~Charlie Chaplin