left-handed violinist

driving to work this morning listening to CBC the violin wove sunshine-strings in the air around my ears making beautiful the cold black day. then the announcer told me your hand had been paralyzed, your right hand, the one with which you held the bow. so you simply switched over to your left and kept on playing, letting your soul fly on the wings of your music, refusing to be silenced by despair. this morning you serenaded me, and i listened.