Untitled.

Somewhere inside these Blues eyes
My young sorrow thrives

I hold my pains captive
Like the winds that blow east on Tuesdays

I know I’m 60 years too late

I play
Not for you…but for me

Because I still get Dizzy
Speaking this language most can’t decipher

I live my life longing for:

Long riffs
Smoky notes flowing through the air
And cool brass on my finger tips

(Written about a Young Ohio boy that can play the Jazz Trumpet like no other.)