That'll Be The Afternoon Blues

Summer Hill, California should be the best place in the neighborhood upon the decade in years, the parks were bigger than Texas, how wide and large it shall be out there, to threw and throw many baseball football softball catchers among the thickest wind has occurred either direction, the sunrise was truly glazing and blazing of heat, it feels like burnt meat, the young intelligent boy said that'll be the, would've be the, could've be the, okay he admitted to say is, That'll Be The Afternoon Blues.... he warship the world of jazz in his brightest soul ever been told, he's not that too old, he feels  happier and stronger than anything he imagine or thought of life, he doesn't need a single wife in his palm of his cutest hand on the land, he played his Band of upbeat percussion drums, he live the quiet uptown apartment building, he wrote jazz table poems onto his laptop computers like a huge and humongous lines and verbs, he got the spice to it, the woman who came in, he actually twirl her enchanted, he said to her should've to be the, he told her before in person, he said That'll Be The Afternoon Blues after all honey, she said to him kiss me, but he actually did right there onto the living room on the outgoing Couch handily indeed

Written by
Michael James Brindley
5-14-17