Sitting on dark and dusty stairs
surrounded by nicotine stained wallpaper,
watching reflections in the tarnished mirror
and the polished brass hand pumps.
I hear the rattle of glasses, clinking
and the sounds of the sax.
Lenny playing endlessly,
tunes that mingle into one another,
separated only for the lighting of another cheroot
or a mouthful of beer.
Over in the corner
Patrick and friends are playing poker.
Money is pushed around the table,
cards shuffled and dealt.
Chairs scrape the wooden floor
as players leave and others join.
Smoke gets heavier,
until the blues takes over the room.
just Lenny and his sax, the tinkling of glasses,
and the thickening smoke,
rising up the stairs to meet me.
Elaine Morris (c) November 2014.