How Artists listen.

Jazz player - Nice

The fourth poem observing summer on the Cote d’Azur:

I sat down on the blue chair to eat a red apple by the azur sea.

The wind blew the plaintive sax-sound through the sun and time slowed And slowed.

Moving on, I dropped the gold coin into the black box in thanks.

Later, I found a pink and yellow perfect dress – and because it was there I bought it, put it on, and returned to the blue chair to pay homage, in colour, to the sound of something half remembered:

Something white.



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