Rest

Late twas the time
No chance to unwind
Off to bed in the comforts of your head
You shall go with the snow all a glow
No tossing or turning
Just hearts a burning
With sleepless desires
Your body craves the fires
You drift off to dreams
Where there are no screams
So pull up the covers and settle yourself in
For a long winters night is to come again

Christopher Chapman © 2008

"One goes through life trying so hard to be who he wants to be, that he becomes the thing he hates the most, himself."

Christopher Chapman 2008 ©

All that Jazz

There are times when I wish I could find that one shady bar that stays open late with a sultry jazz band playing in the corner. Where I can order a drink and let it take me away to another place and time. My ears hear every pitch and rumble. The sound of the muted trumpet takes you back to when music was real and you could feel it. There was heart and soul accompanied with each note played. You could hold your lover close to you and stare into each other’s eyes. The piano keys gently stroked while the brushes on the snare drum kept your heart in perfect rhythm with hers. The smoothness of the trumpet in your ears mixed with sultry sounds of the saxophone. You instantly caress her body as you both float across the floor in a perfect rhythmic movement. You both are absorbed in the music and closeness that you are sharing that you do not even realize that others are watching with envy. The trumpet screams over the other instruments and you increase your movements about her with such fierce passion that she has melted completely in your arms. She wraps her arms tightly around your neck and kisses your lips ever so softly. The room filled with smoke and the two person tables with couples wrapped in each other’s arms. There is no movement in the room because it seems that the entire room has frozen. Time has stood still for you and her, to gaze upon each other with the love of a thousand life times. Where has all those great little places gone? Why has the music stop playing?