Often I wonder
What a place is that inn,
On a highway so far,
When the silence of the night
Becomes unable to bear,
Those hanging dim lamps
That eternal glow,
The sound of the banjo,
Being played on the old hardwood floor,
The chipped coffee mugs,
With scratches around them,
The old floral wallpapers,
Have a strange story to tell,
The familiar aroma of creamy buns,
A string of Aprons,
Soft wrinkled hands,
Their very presence makes you feel
At ease even though you are,
Home away from home.
Really nice poem. I like ur writing style, image represntation & skill to bound reality into words.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
A sublime start with a nice poem, Pakhi. You may like to read my poem, Love And Lust. Thank you.