Prose / Music / Talent / Skills / History
The Little Boy and The Old Age
This prose was inspired by one of the greatest violinists of these times when he was a little boy!
There was a little boy somewhere in a country far from here. He played outside with his friends. The sun burned in his face. After playing for too long, he searched for the shadow and took his book. Once he found the shadow, he read a children’s book about a girl that found something to do in her free time.
This five-year-old boy realized, he also wants something special in his life. Something meaningful, and something he could make other people happy with. ‘What can I do to make others happy while being happy myself and enjoy doing? He thought.
That little boy stood up and walked from under the tree. With his book in his hands, he smiled his way home. Enjoying the nice weather, he walked through beautiful trees on the streets standing next to houses in the small village.
Suddenly he stood still, listening to what he heard; someone playing an instrument. “What could that be for an instrument”, he said out loud. The window of that house was open, and the old woman saw the little boy standing in front of her house listening to her. She looked like an eighty-year-old lady. “You’re playing so nice.”
“When I was your age,” the lady told him, “I wanted to be a violinist in an orchestra.” She gave him a card with a poem on it. There was no name on the card. “Who is the writer? It is so beautiful.” She didn’t answer and walked back inside. He read the poem again:
while Mozart left a career behind, there was a little boy standing on stage, taking his violin to be the musical wind, playing the music of an old age, the orchestra leading his way, understanding all the notes, ever long enough to stay? the little boy never missed the boats
He got tears reading it. Now he knows what his purpose is; playing the violin, just like the old lady. He forgot to ask her name. He took the card with the poem and turned it around. No name. Only a text from whom the card was.
Running home, with the book and the card in his hands, he told his mom the whole story, and out of breath, he said he had a great time with his friends, but that he wanted to do something to make others happy. “Mom, may I play the violin?”
I wrote this poem under the post of violinist Kirill Troussov, which he posted on the 29th of August 2021.
Would you also play? Everyone is allowed to play along!
Tree Langdon, Dew Langrial, The Maverick Files, Dr Mehmet Yildiz, Desiree Driesenaar, Lucy The Eggcademic (she/her), Lynn Dorman, Ph.D.; J.D., Charlotte Zobeir Ali, Bill Abbate, René Junge, Geetika Sethi, Julene Cole, Dr. Preeti Singh, Tony Young, Jr., Liam Ireland, Aurora Eliam, CMP, B. A. Cumberlidge., Brian E. Wish, PhD, Britni Pepper, CR Mandler MAT, Marijke McCandless, Dr John Rose, Earnest Painter, janny’s heart, Joe Luca, Megan Nicole Morgan, Rochelle Silva, Bhavna Narula, Sumera Rizwan, Dr. Preeti Singh, Lucy Dan 蛋小姐 (she/her/她), Lanu Pitan, Lynn Dorman, Ph.D.; J.D., Neha Sandhir S, Britni Pepper, Timothy Key, EP McKnight, MEd, Joe Luca, Claire Kelly, Terry L. Cooper, Carol Price, Bill Abbate, Dr Michael Heng, Josh Balerite Acol, Ahmed Jamal, Aurora Eliam, CMP, Audrey Malone, Rebecca Stevens A., Rebecca Romanelli, Marcus, Diana C., Ivette Cruz, Spyder, Tim Denning, Gurpreet Dhariwal, Stuart Englander, Danna Z, Josh Balerite Acol, Ashlea Morgan, Dave Logan, Sujona Chatterjee, Megan Nicole Morgan, Randy Shingler
About the writer
Agnes Laurens is a writer. She writes for the local newspaper. Agnes lives in The Netherlands, with her husband and three daughters.
You can find her on Vocal, Medium, Elephant Journal, HubPages, Music List.
Writing is — aside from playing the violin — one of her passions since childhood. She is on Twitter and Instagram.
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