Sunday morning in Florence

Another Sunday morning in Florence

Down the street, the Duomo rings its bells on the hour
The chimes echo throughout the city

as if to say, it's time to wake

it's time to rise

it's time for the cats to cry 

it's time for the dog to bark back

it's time for the old man to play his violin on the sidewalk

while the tourists walk by
i've watched him every Sunday morning

smile as he plays 

and only once did we make eye contact

and i got a chance to smile back.

But this morning there is just silence 

and I wonder where the violin man has gone 

because he is fragile like the time
and time is going too fast
unsure and unsteady

He's nowhere to be found 
and soon I won't be either

 I need say goodbye 
and it's not something I am good at.

 I'm just afraid i've missed him already.