Lady with the blues singing sweet tunes,when she's home she feels all alone sitting waiting for the last sketch to create a line she robs time to realize that she's unorganized,the pencil leaves dents near the margin so do her problems but still she solves them the melodies is like a memory it's hard to remember the music still tender and tense immense of the crowd going wild for her agitation irritation affliction the repetition of the beat as she taps her feet it screeches the floor she opens doors to the mind she rewrites the signs of her different cries every tear is Devine devotion her voice like the ocean the lady with the blues singing in the noon howling out pain that slain her emotions sweat caresses her body when her voice shifts and drifts like the waves in the sea to create a disastrous tsunami but I write her stanzas I create this poem to disown the restless I leave the listener breathless.