I watched him play his Alto Saxophone
The way those tunes belted out
You’d think he played from his birth
Yet he had this mature physique
He was older, much older than i
His head tinted with silver grey hairs
A small beard peaked from his chin
Highlighted by small pecks of grey

An aging wisdom that pulls you in
Fingers carefully tending to the instrument
Chest heaving up and down
As he breathed in and out through the Sax
Each breath drawing a different tune
His eyes deep with thought
The tales they could tell
Only his Saxophone knew
I was totally drawn in
He took me to a time when horses were cars
Letters needed a stamp to be sent
Writing love letters was a flair, an art even
It wasn’t about conquering
It was about wooing that woman
Charming her with words, precious, precious words
A peck on her delicate fingers to ask for a dance
A woman was called a Lady
Her beauty was to be praised, sang about
Man was a gentleman
Earning her respect and gratitude
Love was a classic, a dance
Romance, romance drizzled with sweetness
A year, maybe two, even three before she said yes
Carriages carried Dames
Music, Oh the music was spectacular
Only instruments created music
Honor above everything else
Loyalty above one’s life
Man loved one woman
Until his dying days
Looking at him music elegantly played
I could have loved him in his decade
Made him my prince
Walking away from his aura i know
I want an aged, matured classic love
But then again
Maybe i just have an old soul

Copyright November 2015

Mulunga Alukwe


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