The
old man worked the sidewalk
Outside the grocery store.
He arrived just after nine o’clock
And stayed till half-past four.
He took an ancient violin
from a battered leather case.
And then he gave the aching day
A moment’s touch of grace
One afternoon I heard him speak
To a girl who asked his name.
She marvelled how he played so long
And he paused to explain:
“I put my fingers to the strings
And a smile upon my face.
And I try to give this aching world
A moment’s touch of grace.”
I used to watch him all day long
From behind my check-out cage.
And I must have heard a thousand tunes
As I bagged the passing days.
And I knew that I could learn to sing
If I could learn to play.
And I could give the aching hours
A moment’s touch of grace.
There are no easy melodies
And a song is just a start.
You’ve got to find a simple place
To be within your heart.
I guess the old man taught me
That the aching need to play
Was the first note in a song about
A moment’s touch of grace.
Tonight I stand in front of you
with a hundred songs to play.
I have no truth to give you
only words to give away.
Outside breathes the aching night
But here, within this place,
Together maybe we can find
A moment’s touch of grace.
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