Best Bistros Poems

Crackling like lightning the scent of rainy sundays and sweaty youth enters my lungs like undesired medication

foot steps and introduction of generations and blood lines fills my head like crazy family stories

This time of night reminds me of you

I walked past the french bistro and...

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The day’s hours were worn down and a sudden sunset, that
resembled a master’s painted glimpse of Valhalla, was upon
us, its majesty of deepest blue, blood red and black.

From our tenth-floor skew, the river looked, for all,
like a wrinkled sea expecting a storm. Boats moved
to tie...

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