He Was A Musical Trio Poem by Yvonne ColemanBurney

He was like the quintet that
played in perfect harmony with
a dash of a soulful strut.

He was like a saxophone playing
a Kirk Whalum mating call as I
listened on cue, to the musical
melody.

He had the eyes of drums that
beat way down in your soul and
pulled out chords that only he
could produce.

He had the hands of smooth
keyboards like the sounds made
by none other than Duke Ellington
orchestrated symphony in keys of
D, O, M, E.

He winked with an eye of Gil Scott
Heroin's spoken word as his lips
parted to kiss me with a Dizzy Gillespie
the mouth of an electrifying groove.

He had the mystery of a dirty dark night
with the melody of a secluded walk in the
rain with a pinch of the blues stroked with
a well-read recipe of Billy Holiday's lover
man.

He laughed out loud with a Miles Davis
note of Bitches Brew as we strolled down John
Coltrane walkway of a Love Supreme while we
talked about a few of My Favorite Things I
soon became his harpist as I pictured my self
as his Alice Coltrane.

He Was The Music of Love…

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