Frisky Tune Poem by Kewayne Wadley

I was like music to her
She'd press her lips to mine
Then blow.
No matter how tired I was,
For her
I'd always put on my best song,
Note by note.
She'd polish my lips in whiskey
Her brown fingers more frisky
Late last night,
She'd tell me I broke her heart,
But not before she got home.
Press another trumpet
against her lips.
I caught her fingers between the slips
Hearing the same song
I played for her
Louder & louder her foot tapped
Louder & louder her foot tapped