The Fiddler

Reads: 50  | Likes: 0  | Shelves: 0  | Comments: 4

More Details
Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic

Submitted: April 20, 2017

A A A | A A A

Submitted: April 20, 2017

A A A

A A A


The Fiddler

 

The old man had nothing left that he could drink or eat,

he had barely any furniture for most had gone to giving heat.

 

 

He looked towards the window, saw that it was dull but dry;

time to see if it would work – it was essential that he try.

 

 

He stroked his fiddle lovingly, secured it inside its case;

even just the sight of it had placed a smile upon his face.

 

 

He went to find his jacket and he dug out his old hat,

he considered taking with him a worn and thread-bare mat.

 

 

The stairs seemed so much steeper than when he’d last used them before

but it didn’t really take too long for him to reach the door.

 

 

The wind, it whistled past him but he wasn’t really cold,

for he’d spent so many days living with the chill and mould.

 

 

Now to find the perfect spot for him to take a seat --

he felt like he was about to beg but, hey, he had to eat.

 

 

He found a sheltered spot where he would not be in the way,

he took the fiddle from his case and the old man he did play.

 

 

At first he was so cautious, as he caressed the strings with bow

but the music took him over and he almost began to glow.

 

 

The passers-by were mesmerized, caught up in the music’s magic,

be it a reel, a jig, a folk tune or something way more tragic.

 

 

Their feet would be a-tapping, and their bodies, they would sway;

this old man with his violin had really made their day.

 

 

 

The time it just went flying past, the man, he'd loved each minute,

he went to pack his fiddle into it’s case and gasped at what was in it.

 

 

The notes, there were so many, and the coins, well, there were piles,

more cash than he had seen for such a long, long while.

 

 

And then he began to feel ashamed for begging was what it was,

but that feeling didn’t last for long -- he left feeling proud because

 

 

A young man and his girlfriend, they lingered to have a talk,

they asked if he would come again, as with him they had walked.

 

 

The old man, he was happy, the music still was such a gift

that could bring to just so many it’s own magic kind of lift.


© Copyright 2017 hullabaloo22. All rights reserved.

Add Your Comments:

Comments

avatar

Author
Reply

avatar

Author
Reply

avatar

Author
Reply

avatar

Author
Reply