a poem by Kiana Williams

 Jazz singing hymns to my soul

The closest thing that I’ve been to church in a while

Candles lit and the fire flickers to the beat

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Saxophone reminds me of dreams to come

The piano keys open the door to locked places

Welcoming myself home --

It’s certainly been a while.

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The smell of warm vanilla

Paints a portrait of an angel in my mind

Closing my eyes is betrayal

Maybe my future will pass me by.

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