Nina Simone Sings The Blues

At the end of the day

When my ribald fantasies

Are put to bed

And I find us

Slowly swaying

In the dimly lit

Living room

To Nina Simone’s

‘In The Dark’

Three worlds colliding

Against timelines

Skin colors

Musical preferences

Personal narratives

Nina’s

Yours

And mine

Things get warm

And cozy

In the candlelight

Pausing

Only for a moment

As I turn the record over

And things continued

As they had

The soft beauty

That evolves naturally

Like smoke

Pluming out

At it’s own pace

In the end

Gifting us

With a religion

Not found in a holy book

In the infinite

It fails

Even the written word
But not
The Blues