The Roses of Europa…
He is gone. The Gato. My love of Latin Jazz was born in the
crucible of his sax love songs.
The Roses on my table, the loveliest of seven years are
fading and their blossom petals are dropping like my days of these 80 years of
life through the lost sunbeams on this rainy day…
Yet he lives on in the You Tube of our time. Europa, the tones
of sensual love of my sweet one’s touch melding with the memories of times
past.
What I ponder, are the remaining days supposed to bring to
my world of art spent in a quest never to be fulfilled.
Europa plays on…
