Tuesday morning.
Sounds of New Orleans.
Cafe bars are rocking.
Velvety buzzing jazz.
Diana sings her luscious tones,
Piano sings along.
Trumpets sound.
She sports a dress of pure azure.
Matches her eyes the people say.
They're right I'm sure.
Down the street by the voodoo store.
The lights are low
Burning incense.
Image immense.
A magic feline creeps out of the alley.
Been scavenging.
Smelly old fish.
No airs and graces.
Not even a dish.
Further down the alleyway,
a carcass of chicken laid bare.
Ripped to bits by townsfolk who care.
The wishbone hangs in there,
All out for dreaming,
Wishing and kissing.
Young folk and tinkers all up for a share.
A musical cortège.
Passing transport for a one who once was there.
Victim of life.
Heading underground right now.
They're off to the old town crypt.
Finale.
Exit stage left.
(c)LIVVI