Subcutaneously
The Jazz got me. The rhythm me, the saxophone has me, the bass me. The snow me, fine as needle tips, tenderly as your fingertips. At that time back then in another winter, in another life, on another planet, felt ages away from me. Your saxophone from another galaxy. My heart a radio telescope. Nothing escapes me.
bonanzaMARGOT
- 23. Feb. 13, 15:57
- boMAs Gedichte und Texte
