We used to be Jazz.

Lost in the middle of subdued
cries of a trumpet and her sax
is a call to end the silence; an
upfront plea at the return of a
voice, bringing back sonnets
and songs of memories lasting
long past the falling of the sun.
Scrambled between the beats
of hope and lasting destruction
lays my final attempt at a last
minute redemption to hold you
in my arms for one final dance.

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