Martin Taylor

He looks at you
From out of his great flowing pools of blue
The most profound of looks,
this man,
is through and through
Sensitively uses breath
And zest for life, for he
Does stuff with his clarinet
That seldom one will see
Or hear, for Martin’s the master
His music good and clear
But migraine kind of threatened him a bit
And it brought him neat
To stopping
Till old Jan De Fries
Said to him one day
Amalgum fillings say goodbye
And he was on his way
He had always watched his diet
Organic was his thing
He sensitivity notice the knowledge
Which did bring
His migraines to subdue a bit
And days of sunshine reigned
He then decided the guitar
Was something where he gained
More credence and more pleasure
Martin Taylor, one
Who influenced his blues routines
They help him find the sun
Martin born in Ayrshire
Had held his first guitar
When he was just an infant
So no wonder, he’s a star
Who played with yea Count Basie
Grappelli and some more
And is Martins inspiration
Like nobody before
With his loving wife, both customers
Of the little Cooks Delight
We know about his talents
They flow forever bright
I noticed though you looked a little pale
And I just thought
You may have been inside too much
And just might not have caught
The daffodils a trumpeting
The tulips Early chords
The blue bells rhapsodic
Such purposeful rewards
The mid day sun advancing
When high up in the sky
Is enough to colour up the cheeks
And could be worth a try

A poem written to Martin
On 12th of April 1997