An Old Cafe

A guitar plays in a quaint cafe Where poets come to muse where metaphors soar with old cliches And a musician plays the blues Verses flow in poetic flight Bringing charm and color to this old place Poets are passion as they recite and sonnets are embraced A poem blooms in beauty's grace As words blossom into rhyme Bringing charm and color to this old place where stanzas seem to chime Seasons dance upon thoughts sublime As winter turns to spring And words blossom into rhyme with the warmth that summer brings Sonnets chime with words that sing As summer breeze turns to autumn's chill And winter into spring Poets sit and listen still As the guitar plays in that quaint cafe Where a summer breeze can turn to autumn's chill, And metaphors can soar with old cliches