He begged the horn
to breathe strong
for him,
to tell a story
of pain in love,
and love with pain
His fingers danced
on flat pearl keys
spinning jazzy notes
like the earth
rolling through space.
Pure gold sounds
flowed richly
as he taught
the notes to fly
into welcome air.
His pouting lips
sighed then relaxed,
overwhelmed
with years of songs
rarefied and clean
from inside the horn.
Roger Singer 