I met a dark girl
With evening skin
She swam beautifully in

Moonshine eyes and a forever smile
A dance in her step all the while
Young woman had style

She reminded me of Mama’s hugs
Out in L.A. in that old jazz club
As we strolled the cobbled stones
Out so far and then back home

By the shadows cast of the tree’s
On the buildings dress and front steps
Up three or four flights she sang to me
And that sound has never left

It was autumn in Boston and all was fresh
The song of her voice, the shine of her flesh
If brass were black, she’d be a saxophone
(with her own wonderful tone)

Swimming in and out of that spotlight on stage
Even her father named her
After a song
By Coltrane

(c) 2015