It was the twilight hour

It was the twilight hour and I was returning home to 

my hostel after some hours busking and subsequently, 

quenching a honeycombed thirst.

I walked past the window and heard the practising musicians.

I looked down and saw cello, violin and viola in an 

outward facing triangle;

my perception of music had just changed forever.

There I was resizing old melodies

on the street with my six - sometimes five-stringed - instrument;

whereas here were 3 people with 3 different 

instruments reading a score that

was constructed, if you like, in a laboratory, 

and was being performed before my very senses, 

in a fit for purpose chamber!

What could I do?

I might have shoe-horned an entree and said hello, 

but here's the thing:

I thought these super music ladies would consider me inferior;

a guitar wielding, harmonica blowing

street performing underling, pockets bulging with 

dirty coinage (classical musicians do notes!)

Would they give a rats-a*s?

could we exchange anything musically?

hmm,I kept walking.

I'm still walking and now I have the 3 ladies in a PC synth bank

and I have money in a retail bank.

How times inaudibly chime change