Dear editor:
A song for the Willow, from earlier, pre-COVID times:
Fine Brush Strokes
Butter brushed to tawny croissant tone,
Early early Sunday pearly silky satin air,
Willow’s welcome, with a comfy wicker chair,
Nice nose notes coffee’s there, or will be soon,
Dark and rich with lines of chocolate boon,
Soft strings of music filaments aware,
And nuance drawn that maybe Mozart’s there,
In back, assisting sotto sifts of sugar spoon.
Up front, the fabled Sunday New York Times,
Freshly tabled, value added from the store,
All the news its layers fit, just ready for,
An hour of quiet blissfull sip sublime.
Apron’d Mozart says, “Sir, not open yet,
But pay a smile and you may come and sit.”
— BE Aug/18
Brian Emes
Old Town