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My trumpet.
May 1, 2024
My trumpet fills my heart with gloom,
All I play is ragtime tunes,
The jazzy notes a filled with swing,
Sings out to my soul a bitter-sweet symphony,
And above the lively playing hall,
Sits I.
Alone.
No company.
My trumpet takes up all the room,
Goes solo,
Bluesy swoon,
Notes fly high above all else.
My trumpet plays and plays and plays.
My trumpet fills my soul with blues.
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