On my way to work, <br />As I walked along the <br />Tiled and cemented pavement, <br />On the busy MG Road <br /> <br /> <br /> <br />I saw a man, <br />Holding a box <br />Full of flutes, <br />Bamboo-brown ones, <br />Waiting patiently and relentlessly, <br />For someone to show mercy, <br />And buy his reeds <br /> <br /> <br /> <br />With no roof on his head, <br />And a few notes in his pocket, <br />Waiting to earn his bread, <br />I heard him play the brute, <br />With a passion, <br />That could put <br />Even Lord Krishna to squirm <br /> <br /> <br /> <br />His fingers moved rhythmically, <br />On the tiny little holes, <br />With his lips kissing the edge, <br />And I saw him effortlessly blowing air <br />Slowly into the hollow pipe, <br />Thereafter, the music began to flow <br />Like a river from his reed <br /> <br /> <br /> <br />The notes, <br />Kept rising and falling, <br />Though I admit, <br />I could not recognize it all, <br />And filled the cold and lifeless city air, <br />Sans birds, beasts or butterflies <br />With the warmth of music <br /> <br /> <br /> <br />Alas, as time rolled by <br />The sound from his magical reed <br />Slowly got drowned <br />By the snarls and brawls, <br />And the humdrum, <br />Of traffic-laden <br />Mad city life <br /> <br /> <br /> <br />And, as I walked past <br />This busy life, <br />I thanked God, <br />For some of us, <br />Could make a living <br />Out of air!<br /><br />Vinaya Joseph<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/reed-notes-the-flute-player/
