Up the sidewalk hugged by snow banks
a small girl with violin walks towards me,
stepping soft pizzicato on the wet path.
We are two solos passing glances-
hers brace silver strings nascent in sunlight,
mine smiles pianissimo with weathered ivories.
Our music curves in different spheres-
mine, the melancholy smoke in dusky halls,
in hers, wonder echoes tomorrow's promise.
With evanescent nods, we wend our ways-
an arpeggio urgency bows the wondrous,
my steps diminuendo in the distance.
Phillip Michael Sawatzky
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/two-solos-passing/
