George Read Count : 39

Category : Poems

Sub Category : N/A



Ain’t been no 

Sun-shine for days,

E-ver since My 

Father has gone a-way. 

A grey line

So sublime

I find re-mind,

M-e tha-t my 

Dad has gone away.


Leaves blown ‘gainst

My back but none 

That hit home’n

Wa-ves

That My Sax don’t  

Pla-y them tenor

Tales in buck-et 

Breves of 

Fa-ilng scales.


Song-s  in the

Die-rect-ion of,

The Leaves blown’

To show Love.

To whom the Leaves 

Are call-en,

It Sounds sharp

Al-tho the 

Notes flat-ten.


What is to-day

Friday? 

God it’s been

Since this grey 

Sublime-ly 

Pirou-ette,

A-way the Day.

In kick the buck-et,

Full of scales.


Been to-tally grey

All Day-til light-ning

Shines Sil-ver line-ing

A-gainst greys dis-may.

As Eye’s tear away

And I begin to play 

Life and Death’s

Se-ren-ade,

Tha-ts’po-se to 

Play that way.

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