Jazz Club. by Ann Christine Tabaka

The lights dim

a horn wails

smoke and whiskey    fill the room

A voice like silk

    from some long past era

hearts mellow

    tears spill

Bodies sway

    fingers snap

Feet     s h u f f l e

across the floor

Hushed voice        conversations

    glasses clink

        toes tap

Drunk on

atmosphere

a slice of heaven    on a paper plate

High notes - low bows

    the jazzman walks off

        claps and whistles follow

            the lights rise

Ann Christine Tabaka has been nominated for the Pushcart Prize in Poetry, has been internationally published, and won poetry awards from publications. She lives in Delaware, USA.  She loves gardening and cooking.  Chris lives with her husband and two cats. Her most recent credits are: Ariel Chart, Page & Spine, West Texas Literary Review, Oddball Magazine, The Paragon Journal, The Literary Hatchet, The Stray Branch, Trigger Fish Critical Review, Foliate Oak Review, Better Than Starbucks!, Anapest Journal, Mused, Apricity Magazine, The Write Launch, The Stray Branch, Scryptic Magazine, Ann Arbor Review, The McKinley Review.