He's a walking piece of music,
He's a rhyme and a rhythm,
In B-Minor
He flows like a wavelength,
Through the vast air of the hall,
In step by step,
His motion of emotion goes.
His look is that of a funky jazz trumpet being winded,
The eyes play a laid back drumbeat
To your rolling bass line.
You know he's music
When he walks,
You know he's music,
He is living music.
This poem is © 2004 Skylor , to whom comments may be sent.