Notice the tide rolling
with the punches
not the way I do
battling life’s challenges
sea foam tossed in the air
strong Atlantic breeze
blows the tender sound
of the Jazz Man
always reminding me of home
looking out beyond the horizon
the sea never comes to an end
unlike the sweet songs
that are carried by the wind
from strumming fingers
on strings of gold
stirring up seashells
while conjuring images
bare feet running on the sand
you unknowingly remind me
with a riff now and then
that off in the distance
as the notes rise above
the tide will come and the tide will go
sometimes high and not always low
...play me another song my sweet Jazz Man
© 2015 TrilbyYates
