The old lothario sits at the aged piano and runs his fingers across the keys. He recalls the hours he spent in the jazz clubs on the cheap side of town. The magic of the music remains with him as does the memory of the only woman he loved



In the patterns of darkness the civil tongue speaks
Its full of reminders of days in the sun
The unshaved bartender offers advice
You should not be here for fear of breaking your life
But the music is soothing the clientele quiet
The saxophone player gives way to the violin
The drummer is silent he waits for the passion to flow

In the light by the door in the dust and stale tears
Is the woman who lives with the memories and pain
I hide in the shadows I am just an observer
She cannot see me my outline has changed
My face creased and lined like a crumpled love letter
On dark coloured paper that used to be white

I leave for the night my exit not noticed
I walk past the gutter where love now resides
I hear the faint music of Carlos and Maya
Like an anthem for old fools it plays as I go