Off Swanston Street where trams glide past,
A gent sits down, the crowd flows fast.
His frame is broad, his shirt stretched tight,
A beer gut round, in grayscale light.
But hush the world and let him play
His fingers dance, then drift away.
A melody both rich and clear
Pours from the keys, and draws you near.
No stage, no suit, no grand parade,
Just soul and song in light and shade.
Each note a tale, each pause a breath,
A beauty born from life and depth.
And though the photo’s black and white,
You hear the sound, you feel the light.
A gentle giant, slouched with grace,
Making music in a passing place.
Sony A7RV
FE 50mm f1.2 GM
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