On the sidewalk
Stands a young girl.
Curly hair,
Tattered clothing.
The passersby
Don’t seem
To notice.

The young girl
On the sidewalk
With a violin.

The girl took out
the bow,
gently sliding it
across sticky rosin.
Then took the violin
And put it up
Underneath her chin.

Then the girl
Started to play,
Dragged her bow
Across the strings.
The air was filled
with music
as sweet as angels sing.

The people stopped.
They listened,
For the first time
In awhile.
To the loveliness
Of music
Being played by a child.

And when the girl
was finished
The watchers stood
In awe.
They never knew
The magic of simple music
Could make them forget it all.

Then an old man
whistled
And the crowd
Began to roar.
Their voices formed a chant,
“More, more, more…”

The young girl’s
Eyes went wide
As she took a little
Bow.
Then put the violin up again,
And the crowd was hushed
For now.

She bounced her bow
Upon the strings
Starting up
again.
She paused a moment
Then a little more,
The crowd whispered, but then…


The sound of music
Swirled around
And filled the air
Once more,
The crowd began to
Tap their feet
Upon the asphalt floor.

The fiddle tune
Was lively.
Double stops
Filled the air.
And the people that
were watching,
Let go of all their car

Once upon a time
They were too busy
To glance at
A little girl.
Now they listened intently,
To the figure
With the curls.

The beauty of
The music
Was present
In their minds,
And so could be
To all
Who stop and take some time.

To notice a small
Young girl,
Standing by the street,
A violin in her hand,
Case sitting
By her feet.