It’s tender love-making,
as velvet infiltrates my ears.
My benevolent home is whispering.
I wonder, where he has been all these years.
It’s lying on a bed of roses,
as melancholy catches my eyes.
He perfects the drums and rocks the basses.
I remember, hearing the heavens sigh.
He’s Jazz From Rock Central, sets my heart racing.
He’s Sinatra in late autumn, as I go by swinging.