By Paul Baldry

Beneath dawn’s blush, a boy stands, violin tight,
Strings whisper to the wind… a tender plea,
A symphony of hearts, raw and free.
Across the street, the café softly hums.

She moves in pale blue, turning grey to gold,
Her smile a spark in the morning’s hold.
He plays for her, though she may never know,
Each note a secret only longing shows.

The violin sings what his heart can’t confess,
A melody spun from quiet hopelessness.
Coffee cups clink; laughter takes its flight,
But his gaze lingers, tracing her in light.

Each bow’s sweep a silent, aching art…
Love blooming unseen, tearing him apart.
Her auburn hair drinks the sun’s embrace;
His music follows, mapping every grace.

She glances up… eyes aflame, bright,
And for one breath, he dares to dream.
Oh, busker boy, your heart on the strings,
Each note a prayer, each chord a hope it brings.

She may never hear the love you impart,
Keep playing… for her… a symphony of hearts.