For My Trumpet Man

Trumpet man
blows his horn so sweetly
that the sea rolls in to listen
and even the moon yearns to touch him.
Charlene L. Amsden
Trumpet man
blows his horn so sweetly
that the sea rolls in to listen
and even the moon yearns to touch him.
Charlene L. Amsden
She: “Hey! I thought you were the mad scientist around here!” He: “Ah, no. Place where I work frowns on the bwa-ha-ha stuff. Bad for fundraising.” She: “So I’ve got to do it?!?” He: “The fundraising? No, we’ve got experts to … oi! Put .. the .. lab .. coat .. down! Do I wish to know where this is coming from?” She: “The island!” He: “The one we live on?” She: “Not this island! That island! The one…
She: “Please pass the salad dressing?” He: “OK … Dang!” She: “What dang?” He: “Something else we can’t use because we have town water.” She: “I like town water. Or do you really wish to go back to flushing the toilet with a bucket?” He: “Not I. But it means we can’t use the salad dressing. Read.” She: “‘Shake well.’” He: “Exactly! We don’t have a well. And if you think I’m going…
She: “It’s hard keeping all the plot lines straight when you’re writing several stories at once.” He: “Tough to keep all the alibis consistent, is it?” She (ignoring him): “Not to mention all the character names straight. And how they look. Did she have red hair in this other story too?” He: “Easy fix. Keep…
She: “A beautiful morning!” He: “Indeed. Bright light in sky appears in East. Around here, this time of year, that’s news.” She: “This calls for a hearty celebration. Would you care for waffles, or eggs and bacon, or an omelette, or …” He: “Hm. Choices, choices. Let me finish getting dressed first. One cribro at a time.” She: “Cry what?” He: “On…
She finished her novel and said to He: “I just typed my tentative title into Amazon. Three-thousand other novels have the title, A Place to Belong.” He said: “That’s easily fixable.” She said: “Yeah, change the title.” He said: “A Place to Be Short.”
She: “Did you know that handkerchiefs are coming back into vogue?” He: “No …” She: “And … never mind, I can’t tell you.” He: “Can’t tell me what?” She: “About the cool colors they come in now. You’d be appalled.” He: “Probably. But I’m going to find out sooner or later, so …” She: “Purple,…
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Sweet! 🙂
Thanks, Cherie. I took this photo and wrote this poem during Charley's and my first Summer here on the island (before we moved to Hawaii).