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SAD TARNISHED SAX His saxaphone so shiny as a little boy played with the choir. So many souls in the congregation, all the hearts he could inspire. His message rang out loud, and his songs all seemed so clear. His love of God and his music, so pleasant to every ear. Over the years he played, traveling thoughout the land. His versatile music harmonized with each and every band. From Gospel to classic or jazz, rock, country and even the blues. He fit well with each of them, as his horn delivered it's news. He played and recorded songs, with many bands, even some alone. Now the aging old man lies solo, weeping, weak and resting at home. He thinks back to the good times, prior to what arthritis stole. Back when his limber fingers, he still had under his own control. He turns on his stereo to listen, to his own songs once again. Recorded in the days before cancer and emphysema took his wind. Looking on his shelf he feels the youth he knows his body lacks. To a song or two left inside the brass of an old sad tarnished sax. He closes his eyes and smiles, to dream of many better times ahead. For there is a band of angels somewhere, just waiting to be lead. |
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