Old Black Joe Poem by Melvina Germain

Sitting here pondering
in an old rocking chair,
remembering those old days,
a little girl unaware.

The winemaker in Curry’s Lane
hung wooden barrels on chains.
His window sill, loaded down,
officers stayed downtown.

No trouble came to old Black Joe,
everyone knew his name.
He shared his brew,
with the boys in blue,
that old man played the game.

I don’t know whatever happened
to Old Black Joe.
I’m sure he died a long time ago.
But a childhood memory, sparked
my thoughts. Kind of like those

tiny flowers, ya know,
forget me nots.

Written by: Melvina Germain
Date: Oct.14/2014