French Café Love Song
The poetry you speak of left years ago,
I have read that stuff too often to abuse.
I have come to a stronger something.
But your lips are sitting, staring across
the red-white checkered tablecloth,
looking for the words you were expecting,
the stories you've heard before.
And I want nothing more than to be a fairy-tale.
Posted October 27, 1999 (03:23 PM)