The Jazz Tale

I find myself in distant reigns

Listening to old songs I used to love

And there's that lonely drink in the corner

I will not touch

For soft flowers are the only smell

My soul touches,

And there you are inspecting my house

With pleasing eyes that die

I can only hope of heaven

Lingering in your ear...

And I am fond of the love that is not complacent

Therefore I am present in the moment.