Music and Poetry, Perfect Bedfellows - Inspired By Fj Thomas Blog
I slept with my guitar,
I guess was inept.
I was not in accord,
my guitar slowly wept
I slept with my piano
—such a torrid tease,
it tinkled with my tuner
and slew me with its keys
I slept with my bassoon,
it ruffled up my hair.
Un fétiche pour bouffant?
I didn’t really care
I slept with my recorder,
in between the sheets.
The score became discordant
but the music sure was sweet
I slept with tenor sax
kinky though it seems
Did I get the ax?
Or was it in my dreams?
Copyright © Lim'Rik Flats | Year Posted 2016
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