Master's Touch Poem by Sophia Smith

I sat there watching a sale,
The next item was a old battered volin.
the handle was carved in great detail,
ten dollars was the bid of professor Collin.
Nobady else bid,
Until i noticed an old man walking to the front.
I was astonished of what he did,
And with a grunt,
The man picked up the volin stroking the bow across the strings,
then tighting and lossening a few of them.
You could tell he was have no trouble with the rings,
He carefully held it as if it was a percious gem.
Then placing it under his chin,
he took a deep breath.
and with a happy grin,
In a low voice counting to heth,
He started to play a beautiful song,
as if angels were singing all around us.
The volin sounded as if it could bless.
After the beautiful harmony, he walked back to his seat.
Sitting as if nothing had occurred to him.
The crowd was as motionless as concrete,
then another man raised a limb.
He betted three hundred and fifty dollars.
More bets came to follow as the price began to increase,
The price went so high, to get the money here, you would need a hauler
People began to leave, after the saleyard was brougth back to peace.
i watched the old man sit there,
The smile on his face was happy and grand.
This could have never happened -I swear
Without the touch of a Master's Hand.