Surreal

Jazz,                                                                                                                                                                                                  lays me a bridge                                                                                                                                                               to surreal places;                                                                                                                                                                   makes unimaginable dreams                                                                                                                                         a possibility in seams.

This new place I’m at                                                                                                                                                      is nearly on top of a hill.                                                                                                                                                                

Lush green hill.                                                                                                                                                  Clear blue sky.       

The summer sun recedes.                                                                                              

I am right here under this peach tree,

gently swinging out of the melancholy.

The wind blows from Miles away,                                                                                                               probably from the West-coast.                                                                                                                                  The music harbors my thoughts;

syncopation- weakens my wistfulness.

And I begin to realize Monk’s description:                                                                                                        Jazz – This is freedom.

Well Reader,                                                                                                                                                                      Learn some jazz                                                                                                                                                                                  or I bid adieu!                                                                                                                                                                   My train has arrived too. 

A suburban railway station                                                                                                                                         is apparently where I’m at,                                                                                                                                                                                ideating of this new place.

So you see now poppet-

Jazz,

lays me a bridge

to surreal places!