The light is dim,

the tables white

with tablecloths

and napkins,

Crudites and water glass,

where nothing wrong

will happen;

Glasses clink,

and laughter rings

out in a genteel manner;

an ultra suave

tall waiter comes

and soft,

corrects your grammar;

the TVs play

all basketball

no matter what

the season,

and some uncharted

soul inquires exactly

what’s the reason.

But no one here

is for the game;

the bar is filled

with drinkers,

laconic souls

who pass the time

amongst the deepest thinkers.

This is the place,

I know it well;

the dinners are to die for,

and just a taste

of Friday’s soup,

makes grown men

want to cry for.

Upon the walls

a subtle glimpse

of Africa

lures gently,

and in this place,

Safari Room,

comes a meal



Sandra Lee Smith

written a long time ago!

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s