Music notes drifting in crowded areas,
Intricate creation simply turning a page.
Bell’s playing with barely a glance,
Beautiful sound desiring a moment.

Perception takes a step, as priorities walk away,
Business held above beauty
breaks legato movements in the unfelt wind.

Glimpse at a reflection that watches one move,
slender standing shadow stretching to be seen.
A blind eye sees more,
than an open pair set dead ahead.

Strings pulled by those ignorant of their gentle voices
never see rising notes, they barely look above.
A straight line says little,
When surroundings sing volumes.

Cadence goes without an encore,
for the chin rests within a black casket,
Dead to those with apathetic tones,
And remembered only by ones who stopped to listen.