The second set was over and I showed no emotion as a seductive storm brewed beneath my skin in this smoky room of half empty glasses of beer
His forehead drenched with sax sweat and his well tailored suit wore him so well, he was jazz in human form and I longed for his sheet music
I sat quietly hair styled in a sophisticated French roll black seamed stockings adorned my crossed legs, red lipstick accentuating my sultry expressions for I dare not smile
I absorbed every note knowing they were written for me I could feel the cadence of his saxophone sonnets translating poetically to my soul
He reappears from backstage and stands before a dark velvet curtain as the spotlight glistens on his handsome face he wipes his lips with a white handkerchief…it is time
Lips to sax, heaven floats from his horn and I lift one brow, secretly tap one foot and politely refuse yet another drink from across the room
I cannot look away, his lovely notes command my attention with such musical finesse as he creates unforgettable memories
Tonight, time stands still and my heart applauds his genius, I sway softly as a subtle yet lovely tune fills this place, I am unable to prevent tears from falling as he deliberately invades my emotions
He is beyond beautiful, he is complex, spiritual and charming with a daunting presence, he is the epitome of musical devotion
How easily his gospel goes blues… I long to worship at the altar of this rhythm after all that jazz
Jimmie Ware is the founder of The Black Feather Poets in Anchorage, AK. She is a freelance writer who has been published in several anthologies as well as two books, including Bearing the Mask: Southwestern Persona Poems. (facebook.com/jimmie.ware2)