Jazz musicians, ready stand
And join the band, hand in hand.
Will we, one and one, make two?
Time lays down what we must view.

Decrescendo, the lights go down,
Making staccato any frown.
Faltering first, then finding aim,
Sorrow does our great glee maim.

Graceful jazz stumbles through the air
As I breathe the beauty of your hair.
If I could stay like this forever,
To obligation, would I say, “Never.”

Rare and nimble, a flute takes the line.
Ten fingers tell me they are mine.
I would give myself away,
If forever they would stay.

Syncopation bends the beat,
While refuge I find in the tap of your feet.
When fleeting are the notes of old,
An instant is more than precious gold.

Brushes drag on with the drum.
Of secret moments, the word is “mum.”
May now what you clearly see
In honesty, exactly be.

A trumpet screams its fearless improv,
And joyous memories are recalled of
Holding each other, my arms around you,
While staffs, stems, and systems proclaim love is true.