In the rear of an old antique shop.
Sitting on a wooden shelf,
Was a box old and worn.
Ragged, tattered and torn.
Alone and all by itself.

The shop was full of all kinds of neat things,
Some rare and some just debris.
It's hard to stand out,
When your left without,
Proper self-image and dignity.

People walked by but never really tried
To see what may lie within.
They'd pick and they'd choose,
Often refuse
Didn't care or know where to begin.

One day an old man in search of new treasure,
Spied the box and decided to peek in.
Once he eyed,
What was inside,
It produced a most heart warming grin.

For there in a bed of faded old paper,
Laying prouder that it'd ever been,
Was a worn instrument,
The forlorn embellishments,
Of an old bow and broken violin.

It was fairly well kept, despite where it slept,
It had obviously once been well used.
Among other things,
It was missing its strings.
Some TLC could make it like new.

God's gifts are funny, they don't need much money,
Just attention and sincere tender care.
Given a chance,
A life is enhanced,
Redemption takes concern, love and prayer.

The man took the box home and tended to its tone,
He had a delicate, light, soothing touch.
It didn't take long,
To produce a sweet song,
From this fellow who had suffered so much.

Some folks live their lives and never realize, 
Their potential and God given worth.
They sit on dark shelves,
The victims themselves,
Of future's predetermined by birth.

In some old shop one might pause and stop,
Take time to help out a fellow man.
It doesn't take much,
To reach out and touch,
Those that need only the extent of a hand.

The man learned to play, and brighten folks day,
With his new social partner and friend.
Most people say,
He relishes the day,
He found his treasure in an old broken violin.