Buena Vista
By brentsrich
Music spills into Night of warm bricks and Sweat Children sleep fitful Called to the alley Side street where Dance and smoke fill The air Old men croon With ocean’s spray Calling The night A softly spoken word The warmth of A woman’s hand Yellow and green Are the walls Held up by Young men with Bottles and cigarettes Thin in the corners of Their mouths Women move to Unseen forces Sway and hip Pulled by Time so full Of sound On and on the pleasure Drowns us with Words, deeds Until the cool of Morning breeze Echoes with The passing nightThis was inspired by seeing a live performance by The Buena Vista Social Club. Written June 28th, 2001 © on Sep 18 2001 01:48 PM PST, Rich Brents 0 • 9
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"Music spills into..."