Artwork from Google




love, passion, music and all that jazz …





The strings are tugged, the drumming feeds off the passion imbued,


soft notes caress each breath breathed,


the music within, so intricately weaved.




Our feelings are set alight by the crescendo that rises, the melodies of moments shared,


thud-thudding to the beat of our hearts, floating and coursing through our veins,


as symphonic passion flows through every note that strains.




Wind breezes into saxophones, fingers strum guitars, the jazz plays ever on, warming our souls, mending our fragmented hearts,


we kiss the blues away, aching inside, and with every lyrical turn, in the cauldron we dance as we burn,


inflamed by melodies hewn into our consciousness, softly stirring emotions that come alive,


as the music plays on, as passions bloom, blossom, and thrive.




How can we get through these parched days, these still nights,


without the tunes that reach for the heavens, soaring above our gnawing reality, picking us up from the cold ground, to embrace dizzying heights.




We would not still be here, if the music had stopped,


we would not still be here, through all these decades that have passed,


we would not still be here,


but here we are,


standing together, wrinkled fingers clasped,


still creaking along the grooves of vinyl infused hope,


we stand together, and we shall stand some more,


as we bask in the memories, of times gone by,


with the melodies of a life lived, and a life loved,


the music striking chords deep inside,


fusing our hearts as one, well braced for the struggles,


that may still lash us, shaking our ramparts with each incoming tide …





Artwork from Google