Highway Inn Poem by Pakhi Kartik

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.