The mournful note of the deepest strings
Marks the night with its slowest song.
Footsteps falter as they pass by,
Drawn to the darkness of the music and
To hold each other in the midnight hour.
His cap is cast at his feet asking for that
Shower of gold and silver from those around,
Ears attuned to his hypnotic tune ringing out
Like the Cathedral bells will do a few hours hence.
He will be gone by then;
Fading like the indigo night into the
Light of the dawn, nothing but the
Memory of the music written upon these
Ancient city streets.