The music man with no name

she sits there quietly, listening to the echoing sound of the train approaching, hears the brakes screech as it gets closer. Her eyes are set upon the lonely man sitting against the cold tile wall of the station. He slowly and carefully moves a tiny piece of cloth along the saxophone in his hands, marred with the scars of time, but moving with ease and care, careful not to damage this only thing that has kept him whole, his everlasting serenity upon the face of a difficult world.

He places the rag by his feet as he finishes and closes his eyes, his ocean blue eyes disappear and his face becomes quiet, he is calm; he is serenity in all its entirety; He begins to move his fingers fluidly, lightly, as if a breeze upon this thing that he so depends on each day.
She watches as the smooth sound of a beautiful melody fills the station, dancing along the breeze that comes with each passing train. She lets this melody fill her mind, and she listens, so quietly, she just listens. It us utterly wondrous and she closes her eyes, watching a scene of beauty pass before her. She imagines this man with a life before now; He kneels before a child, hair as golden as the sun, a dashing smile that portrays such happiness as she extends her wee arms to be held. The man smiles back and picks her up swinging her about, looking into her eyes with a love so great, it pains her to watch. Maybe he was an honorable father, with a loving family, or maybe, she thought silently, he once was a hero, a man who fought valiantly for what he believed in, a soldier in the wars. Now, this man, this quiet, hardened, weary man with a sadness behind the bluest eyes she had ever looked upon, created such alluring melodies as if they were a sort of magic created by a heart so crestfallen, that a great emptiness lie within him forevermore.

She walked to this man, opening her eyes and gazing upon him as he was lost within the music of his soul and she kneeled before him, as he slowly raised his eyelids and looked upon her. He smiled such a bright, elated smile, his sadness ever apparent behind them. She placed her money inside the blue velvet case that housed his instrument, and as she did, he placed his hand upon hers and gave her a pained, weak smile, as he nodded his head but once in affirmation at her kindness.


He was the music man with no name, and she, she was a dreamer of memories for those who
had stories that were never told.