Some Call It Jazz

Evening like orange groves of joy
Joy with thunder and wind
Rain as free as rivers
Natural love with no melancholy hills
Bass runs in jazz joy
Quiet and peace in the sax notes
Laid back and mellow
Drummer plays like a mystic
Trumpet glows like stars
Piano chords with space and magic
Leave your rueful side streets
No games
No class
Just music as sweet as life
Some call it jazz

poem by Joseph Narusiewicz
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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