Her Sax Man
by Sharmagne Leland-St.John

Summer's gone now. The Starlings have flown from their nests.

It was a brief Interlude, now it was November and they were both Longing for Spring.

She wanted to return to Malibu, he to Missoula , where There's a River by the Edge of
, or perhaps a Pilgrimage to Cuba, New Mexico. In Simpler Days they met in her
Small Room in Brooklyn or in The Red Lacquer Room in the Bohemian boarding house
in Soho he called his "home away from home."

In a Dream they were bathed in Circles of Light, Moonlight in Winter, and as he held her,
he said, "You lie so very still in the mornings." The Winds of Love rustled the lace curtains
Framing the window with its wooden planter of Sunflowers. Rain, Whispering outside.

Then he told her, "When It's Spring, we'll go to Venice. There's a Village by the Sea, the
Adriatic. It'll just be you and me."

She wanted to write a Love Poem for him but was at a Loss for words. Now she looks at the
Empty Spaces, The Empty Chair, the Endless Dust and she is filled with Desire for him, but
perhaps it's A Blessing, or a Bittersweet Surrender.

Leda Remembers the evening when he admitted, "I'm in love with Two Women …please don't
ask me to choose." The song of Cicadas drowned out the sound of her sobs. He Says Nothing,
Does Everything
to comfort her. He releases a Sea of Sighs then like a Sudden Mountain Storm,
he is gone.

Before he melted into the night, the last thing he said to her was "Your Journey's Just Begun."  

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