2 The Fiddler: Chapter 2, Being The First

This is actually the very first instalment that was written. When I first saw the "Fiddler", he had long shaggy hair, though, if you have seen a recent photo of him, you know that his hair is presently close cropped. Remember, this is a "tribute", not a factual account. It is about the impression he, and his music had on me. As with the other poems, this is a simple song.

 

 

2 The Fiddler: Chapter 2, Being The First

 

 

He sits on the sidewalk

Clothes dirty and torn

You look in his eyes

And they’re weary and worn

There’s a story, in those eyes

 

 

His hair’s shaggy and long

It’s scarce seen a brush

The crowd all around him

Is in such a rush

They don’t see him, sitting there

 

 

Then he closes his eyes

And a song starts to form

In the clouds, of his mind.

Like a rising storm.

 

 

You look at his hands

They’re cracked and they’re cold

He reaches beside him

And picks up the old

Faded fiddle, at his side

 

 

His face seems to change

As his music plays on

The strings start to sing

It's a beautiful song

And it takes you, far away

 

 

Then he closes his eyes

As you watch his bow glide

In a dance sweet and slow

And you hear a sound- like heaven

As you close your eyes

You’re taken away

To a place that exists each and every day

But, only in your dreams

 

 

He sits on the sidewalk

Where his music is life

The world disappears

Gone the pain, gone the night

As a tear slips, down his cheek

A single tear falls...silently.

 

 

 

Done