Strangers CafeA Poem by Lonesome TravelerMan on the phone, woman on the smoke Young cats & lovers, tracksuit & tweed; You say romance is dead. Not me. It's every which way, at the junction.
But the dancing days are over though it's still walking the beat. Desperate gasp, fleeting glance. Welcome to the Strangers Cafe.
© 2013 Lonesome Traveler |
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Added on February 12, 2013 Last Updated on February 12, 2013 Author
Lonesome TravelerUnited KingdomAboutYoung, British and naive going on cynical. Searching for the right path, and all that mother jazz. " Pass the parcel, sometimes that's all you can do. Take it, feel it, and pass it on. Not for me, .. more..Writing
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