The Violinist

I saw a old, frail man stand up with a violin, slowly make his way to the front of service to play a tribute to a fallen friend.

So physically bent over by the gravity of age, I feared that he would fall over, as he precariously hunched himself over his instrument as he began to play. What he played could only be done with the full emotion that only one of his age could convey.

Youth, no matter how well read or how broadly traveled could not express the passage of time and lost in the notes played by his fingertips.

I can only hope to one day be able to infuse that experience into what I create.