The Old Man Plays Poem by Owen Cullimore

At evening the old man would play
As if colors sighed themselves in strings
Like a rainbow he lit the room
With every note or tune
Love and loves beauty, echoed out
Like water to flowers
His violin spoke like it was alive
Like telling his music in words
To those who would listen and enjoy
Outside in the streets the sound
Rang out for miles
His dedication to his art
Came from within his very soul
He creates a magical world of sound
As each note is played with love and deep attention
His mind with only one thought
His music, his solace
Played through a heart that comes alive
With each passing note played
Each night he would play until early morning
At day when he could
Never tiring of his creations
Under his guidance the Violin became alive
It spoke to him, and he listened
That's what made the Music so wonderful
They created it together
With love and perfect harmony
Together