In a smoky room where the shadows sway,
The night spills secrets in a moody play,
Staccato whispers dance on the bass,
Each note a wish, each rhythm, a trace.
The crescent moon watches with an eager eye,
Illuminating lovers beneath the velvet sky,
With every heartbeat, the glow starts to rise,
Filling the moment, as passion complies.
In the corners, laughter lingers like wine,
While melodies mingle, intertwining divine,
A saxophone croons, and the trumpet replies,
Weaving a tapestry of sighs and goodbyes.
The staccato strikes, then it flows like a stream,
A fleeting connection, like a half-formed dream,
Lost in the music, where time slips away,
In the softest embrace of a jazzy ballet.
So let’s raise a glass to the nights that we keep,
In the shadows of starlight, where secrets run deep,
For when the last note fades, and the night takes its toll,
We’ll hold onto the glow, and let the rhythm console.
Jazz
Staccato, crescent, moody, glow, bass