Thursday, April 06, 2006

Indiana by Martin saxophone

My Old Martin

The now tarnished saxophone
Wailed a mournful cry
Echoing through the empty evening sky
Like a lonely coyote
Howling on a dry eroded butte
In the New Mexico desert
In the 1950's
Whose sound is only now
Reaching our ears.


Blogger AnJaka said...

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5:06 AM  

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