Billie Holiday...
Bass,
Low, plucking deep and slow.
Sly, a piano drifts in, as that feeling
edges up my arm.
Saxy middle tones glide sexy,
Crafting the way clear as
Winds gust background harmonies.
Brass chromatic waves clip crisp.
The room turns blue as
Heartache floats on rhythm.
Easy refrains, shifts slow.
Each beat, measuring my soul,
showing me the key.
Sounds of pain, dress my wounds,
With my life found in the transitions
I am hidden, as each breath she takes
leaves me in syncopated style.
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