“MILES….away” by Bobby West
A blue-black man… blew an even darker horn…
Hard pressed to lips… red, cracked and worn…
His fragile hands… were like a maze of veins…
At his fingertips… were indigo stains_
His shiny face… had met with lines of age
Eyes, vibrant still… but with their whites gone beige…
His whispery voice… was but a muted scream…
With his horn of gold… He played themes to a dream_
A tortured soul… He played tomorrow’s blues
Because yesterdays grooves… reflected ancient news…
A man so bold… as to damn the rules…
Some said he could be cold… but he was always… cool
………..Wanna know the rest of this story.. ?
Coming soon…. Bobby West Poetry book