A Silent Kind of Blue
there is no hush...when silent dreams can scream
and echo through the haze yesterdays
just like the thoughts that float upon a stream
are lost in lackadaisical malaise
no peace within this torrid kind of blue
- horizons that portend more of the same
then taunt with hints of calm where wishes flew
to where they hide - and no one has a name
a sultry sax weeps like the sallow trees
as tickled keys stall on a lazy chord -
a cloud sails through blown by a trumpet's breeze
and patience snares its improvised reward
all tangled in a thought that never ends
- that solo break where sanity pretends
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