Corner Cafe Poem by Bryan Riley
Corner Cafe
One age dies, while
another gives in.
Our home is a
movie paradise-
a garden of sin
A fairytale of old
we live, while the
new ones are
yet unborn
In the little cafe
where the
writers meet.
We gather there
and call ourselves
dispossessed.
We sip our cappuccinos
with our quarters and
pennies lovingly spread
out on the table-
At least,
the world loves us,
and we are free?
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
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5/5/2024 9:44:55 AM # 1.0.0.1119
