The Void
The Sweet Sound of Jazz
The Sweet Sound of Jazz
One day I'll to play the saxophone.
Fingers on bell key, notes form on
the air.
Catching breath. Music flows, like
smooth silk, leaves a feeling of
warm cookies and milk - a memory
of childhood; listening to old
records of bygone days.
Awaiting my somber sleep - as
music made me smile. Good times
I recall.
Reed mouthpiece, blown - lips
moist. Ready to perform.
I remember the sounds of one
of the jazz greats. He filled
every room in the house.
As John Coltrane delivered magic.
Floating along, on notes ; with
the atmosphere full of soul --- bebop,
hard bop.
Blue Train Chasin ' the train,
Alabama, some all time great tracks.
These things born from culture, and
deep seeded in history.
This all comes together, steeped in
a legacy. A master-class in rhythm.
One day I'll learn to play the saxophone.
Fingers on bell keys, nickel, and brass.
Bell hung around my neck.
I dream of music in motion, waves of
smokey notes, trumpets in the background.
Piano keys, hi - hats --- double base.
The sweet sound of jazz. The sound of
the soul.
The Sweet Sound of Jazz