poems by Donald James Dolby
Rooster Blues
The mournful blues
crept up the street
Seeping from a basement
in the morning heat

Filling every corner
in the shimmering haze
Bringing memories now
of earlier days

The horns wailed low
a familiar sound
But the title escaped
yet to be found

Until a flash of red
turned at the end
And then he saw
as it rounded the bend

In the grey dawn
when red met blue
He saw the plate
and then he knew

RO05TER, of course,
little and red
Was the tune that was
floating around his head
Notes :-
Commissioned by Norman Rogers to illustrate a chapter on Mick Jagger in his book It Just Might Happe