He belongs to the night people;
stories without legs and fast rooms
with slow talk. His music is the jazz
that drowns out the guilt while
overpowering the need for more.
His words are like sledgehammers,
crushing the crystal while sharp edges
rub the skin of your listening.
Sleep is an intrusion to the breathing
of his thoughts. He wakes up late,
encouraging evening to descend.
He pulls out the aroma from the
passion of music, undertaking the
overparts while creating the complete.
Roger Singer 
Hello, I wanted to let you know that I shared this link on the International Jazz Day Blogging Event. š I hope you don’t mind, check it out if you want: https://musicteacherlifestyle.wordpress.com/international-jazz-day/
Have a nice day! Ioana
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Ioana,
Thank you for sharing the poem. There are a number of more printed over the years on jerryjazz.com.
Thank you again
Roger
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Oh, thank you so much, I will check it out! š
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