THE VIOLINIST

One night as she sat sheltering herself from the rain.
She heard a splash in the river.. a black case floated by.
It took her awhile to retrieve it and to her surprise it was a violin.
It wasn't an expensive one but a good one nonetheless.
She would practice  trying to remember what her grandfather had said about finger placement.
She could hear the music in her head yet images of him very faint.
She could see his fingers dancing as he played.. the violin, his mistress.
If she but could play half as well as her grandfather then she could play for coins or food.

She would play till her fingers bled
She needed to make some money to feed herself
If she made it past the thieves..she would be fortunate.
She would buy food for the other street children as well.
It was a huge onus placed upon her shoulders
She was no more than twelve yet her soul was old
She'd recall in dreams watching her grandfather play
To regain that life would indeed have been bliss.

She had been kidnapped and left for dead somewhere foreign
Never knowing how to get home again.
She hid under bridges and ate what scraps she found.
Becoming ill from some foods and in death's embrace once too often.
To have been home and warm would have been enough.
Now she hiding under bridges for safety and rest.
Protecting her violin as best as humanly possible.
The thieves were looking to take it from her.
For now she rested...the violin safely by her side.

cp.MagikGypsy 2008