a poem by Kiana Williams
Jazz singing hymns to my soul
The closest thing that I’ve been to church in a while
Candles lit and the fire flickers to the beat
Saxophone reminds me of dreams to come
The piano keys open the door to locked places
Welcoming myself home —
It’s certainly been a while.
The smell of warm vanilla
Paints a portrait of an angel in my mind
Closing my eyes is betrayal
Maybe my future will pass me by.
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