Fine and Mellow

The band starts playing. On the stage you see
a wry-faced woman sing about her man
into the microphone, a twelve-bar blues

that talks of love and joy and where they may
go wrong - the story of a life she knows
too well, sung in a voice you have to hear

but once not to forget it. Round her stool
the jazzmen blow their horns. Each single verse
is duly answered by a soaring break

that has her nod, and sadly smile, the flow
of notes each horn puts forth that player's own
true signature and tribute to the star

who sits as though each melody's a soft
caress that tingles down her spine and makes
her day until a new, sad morning breaks.