Thursday, June 9, 2011

She lives in my buidling haven't seen her in awhile

soul as thick as muddy water
sighs pure as a new born
the vision of skin to skin
together with bed sheets on the floor
speaks to me like jazz
from the beginning to the geniouses
your hips move to the sound
of an ecletic drum solo
I would have to stare
questioning the player
your legs tingle
like the rising note around my torso
America might have invented the soundtrack
but I am sure this feeling sails over seas
Brazil to Europe
the muse makes my fingertips anxious
can't type the blues away
the horns have eyes on your walk
through the parking lot
and your pencil thin grin is applause
the perfect ending
to a soulful evening

No comments: