Pensive Power

She stands there,
Back to the world.
Eyes are focused
On her beautiful violin.

She stands completely still,
Her hair is quivering,
Her hands are flowing
Sweet music escapes.

Her lonely figure stays
On the corner of the street,
Her music flows on
When no one is listening.

She possesses nothing in the world,
Nothing but her old, old violin.
When people pass by her
They look down, oblivious to her.

She stands there every day of the lord,
When no one dares miss the bell of the church.
She plays out of her very heart,
The sad, sad melodies of her past.

No one listens to her beautiful melodies,
No one but another lonely figure standing in the street.
He stands there, pale in the very shock of her
At the grace of her lyrical, graceful song.

He slowly walks up to her corner of the street,
The exact part where the most people can hear and see her.
She keeps on playing her lyrical, graceful song,
Focused on ending the song, oblivious to the man in front of her.

He stops staring and realizes the empty velvet violin case in front of her,
Very slowly, he brings out his wallet and produces his last coin that he had earnt.
Very slowly, he bends down, with his eyes back on her, and places the coin in the violin case.
The spell is broken - she stops playing and suddenly, very suddenly, their eyes lock together.

The air becomes thick with silence and they stare at each other, somehow shocked,
“I was drawn to your beautiful melody, the sad, sad song and it possessed me to come,” he said.
“I have been playing that same melody, the sad, sad song since the first day of time,” she said.
They hold hands and smile, the first for a very long time - for the lonely figures were lonely no more.