(Poem 9) The Instrument

 The Instrument

Normally when there’s a sad story I let the violins play. 

On my lousy days my orchestra performs an empty symphony.

Gloomy days make the music from my heart play somber tunes.

When I’m feeling pleasant my heart sings rhythm and blues.

My heart is the instrument, the drums, the sax, and the base.

I’m dramatic when the grand piano plays a breathtaking score.

Feeling kind of light-hearted today let the bells sing sweetly.

Love is my favorite song; I hear jazz with every breath I take.