In a dim-lit room, with smoke-filled air,
Frank played jazz, his fingers a blur,
His saxophone's cry, a soulful prayer,
As listeners swayed, entranced by his lure.
Each note he played, a story untold,
A journey that stirred the heart and soul,
With passion and skill, his music bold,
Frank's spellbound audience felt whole.
In the crowd, I stood transfixed,
Caught in Frank's musical web,
Entranced by the notes intermixed,
A soulful journey he did tread.
Frank's melodies took me to a place,
A world I thought I only know,
Lost in the music, lost in the space,
I felt my spirit begin to glow.
But as the night wore on, I came to see,
That Frank's music was not just for me,
The same melodies were played, wild and free,
To every audience, every whim.
The realization stung like a bee,
As I looked around and saw the rest,
The same enraptured faces as I,
Lost in the music that Frank blessed.
But then I paused and saw the light,
My story was not unique at all,
For all who listened, day or night,
Frank's music cast a magical thrall.
In Frank's jazz, I found the real flow,
a deeper, universal romance show.
And in that truth, I found fright.
to never again, watch Frank plays jazz.
