Thankfully, there’s a day
in each week
to fold away the toil,
set the table
with champagne and friends
at the jazz pub
below the street,
and let the smooth satin sound
of a saxophone melody
transform tired blood
into a sparkling flow
of toe-tapping, hip-swaying
funky, mellow music
as the bubbly tickles your nose
and you move,
cheek to cheek,
one man, one woman,
no space between,
no tension,
just a stroke of magic
in the measures of a tune
to dance away the week.