The subway guy

He sits in the busiest subway in town
His fingers move incessantly over the
musical holes of his precious flute
as if they have a life of their own

I notice he is wearing a vintage coat
May be to look his most presentable
May be to protect himself from the cold breeze
He seems lost in his own world of music

The flute succumbs to his touch
The magic unfurls as the music flows
caressing and comforting our lonely hearts
opening our eyes to the love still alive

Someone drops a token of appreciation
He never asks for it though
It tries to break the musical rhythm
But yet he goes on without a falter

He acknowledges our applause
with silent words that get lost in the crowd
I walk away humming the melody played
in this orchestra by the subway guy.