– nightfall: the trumpet player –

I enter the kingdom,

off a twisted journey,

off a twisted road.

Of food I am thinkin’,

while the wheels cool,

while my morals go.

Parking in The Strip…

in Carhops I dip…

slice of cheese to go…

down a chilly road.

Then a sound is speakin’,

on a lit corner,

from a lighten soul. 

~

He is a brown man,

grey in his beard,

CD player on the ground,

jazz from his ears, and in

his. worn. hands… a

trumpet so fine,

playing from his breath,

under streetlights.

~

I commend his notes,

paying for his talent,

paying for the love.

Thankful, filled with hope,

he speaks of passion,

speaks of God above.

He plays here a lot…

at his favorite spot…

extra cash to go…

on this concrete road.

One lump in my throat,

I wish him the best,

bless him with a hug.

~

He was a brown man,

grey in his beard,

CD player on the ground,

jazz from his ears, and I

un. der. stand… how

God is divine –

giving life to gifts,

in any light.

~

~

D.J. Whisenant

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