The Cellar Poem by Robert Melliard

There's a cellar near Leon - a restaurant now;
a maze of tunnels, steps and corners,
hacked from stubborn rock and clay
by former, clearly tougher generations.

The lights are low, and there are candles;
the furniture looks suitably antique.
The food is simple but delicious,
with tasty salads, wine and cheese.

Whatever reasons there may be,
it's the kind of rustic, time-worn place
in which an hour or two of happiness
for us, at least, seems guaranteed...