Upon the tracks where steam and music meet,
He wandered, smiling, through the smoky haze,
Jazz notes and whistles tangled in the street,
His days a rhythm, his nights a smoky blaze.
He spoke in syncopation, soft and low,
A tune that lingered gently on the air.
With every song and engine's whistle's blow,
He found delight and wonder everywhere.
Now silence fills the carriage and the hall,
The vinyl spins but does not catch his ear,
The locomotive rests, awaiting his call,
Yet memories and melodies draw him near.
Good friend, your jazz and rails shall not depart—
They echo ever gently in my heart.
-
Author:
Goldfinch60 (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: May 9th, 2026 00:56
- Comment from author about the poem: Paul, a friend of mine died a few days ago, I had known him for 25 years, a third of my life. We went to jazz together, went out for meals with our wives and had some wonderful times. He loved working on preserving steam trains hence the train and jazz connection. The video is from High Society which Paul said that brought jazz to him when he first watched it. I watched the video and it brough tears to my eyes.
- Category: Reflection
- Views: 7
Offline)
Comments3
An In Memoriam sonnet with real heart, Andy. (I bet you passed it to his wife.)
PS: Your comment on my latest never reached it (notified but didn't arrive) Could you have another go, please.
A sensitive write Gold.
That Bing was a monster in his private life though.
Sad, melancholic but most beautiful Andy a lovely work.
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