Another bad poem

Ah, the altered chords of Bill Evans, they bring me back

to the days of glamorous cardinals in the trees

the female drabber than the male, but still a thing of beauty

on an overcast day like today

those rootless voicing, and maybe Paul Motian on the drums

if I remember rightly, and the tragic early end of LaFaro

they massage my memory and make me think of lovelorn lasses

of laws repealed before their time, and a sweet lyric by Mercer

didn't he write the one about "days of wine and roses"?