poem/picture

Breathing Rooms IV.

We played jazz,
our small-time group,
in the old house of Donald’s long-gone grandparents.
There,
on the bottom floor, many years ago,
they owned a neighborhood grocery,
where,
in the heyday of jazz,
small-time was all that there ever was.

---------------------

Poem by Roger Noyes, picture by me.
From our poem/picture book Other People's Schemes.