The Street Musician

The Street Musician ‘I am blind,’ says the minstrel, ‘but I can see the notes in my mind as my fingers strum and pluck the strings so as for my ears to hear them sing.’ I feel the rush as the vibrations resonate from the wooden instrument to fill the gap between me and the guitarist on the sidewalk. I feel alone in the gathered crowd but find comfort in their company as we listen to the musician buskering. “How much,” I ponder as I look into the case containing worn coins and crumpled bills, “Is this entertainment worth?”