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He came out onto the empty stage
Normal as I had always seen him
His beautifully crafted instrument in hand
I, not sure of what to expect,
Relaxed down in my seat
Unsure and unaware
As he lifted the violin up,
The light gleamed off its lustrous beauty
The luminous chestnut color
Radiantly polished to perfection
His bow grandiose mahogany
Each hair pulled tight and flawless
With just a light dusting of resin
Shimmering off the spotlight’s majestic beam
I was always fascinated by the violin’s exquisiteness
But even more by its player’s expressions
So serious yet ever so gentle
As if his heart was playing games with his face
He lifted up the bow and began.
The beginning note,
More warming than that of a flame
Rippling throughout the empty auditorium
I, hidden in the dark, smiled.
He played Mendelssohn impeccably.
Each note reverberated throughout me.
And I could almost picture the music in my mind.
Soon after he was done he re-tuned his partner.
Tightened his tired bow
“How was it?” he asked.
“Wonderful… no, not wonderful… immaculate.” I replied.
He winked at me just then
Tired and beaten, he smiled.
“Come on, let’s go get some coffee.” He almost sang.
Sang just like his violin.