Jazz In Transition

She leans with legs crossed against her black car,

Like hot jazz on a homemade jelly roll night,

Like butter tempting sunlight,

A lithe lady in red with black heels,

Honey hair flowing on wild whispers of breeze.

Her pose is seductive,

Her prose is provocative,

She looks sharp enough to coax chords from 'Lightning Louis'
horn.

She walks in comfort with the dusk,

She moves in magic with the night

With a two-step twist, she makes the night exist.

She bursts with smoky heat,

She pulsates with passion,

She walks a bourbon stroll in a hot southern kitchen,

In this smoke-filled room,

She makes the trumpets swoon.

She is jazz in transmission

She blew off Steinway for a tenor sax

A classical pianist makin' a sexy transition.