Wadley Cafe Poem by Whitney Nicole Albright*

When I was a kid on every weekday
You could find me down at the Wadley Cafe
Customers would order a good fillet
Or wait in line at the warm buffet

At breakfast they'd come in for buttered biscuit
It tasted so good everyone would tip it
And the feeding frenzy for late July
Would be some good old fried apple pies

People would come in wearing overalls and hats
Order coffee just to chat
They'd read the paper, watch the news
Put a quarter in the jukebox and play the blues

And all of the town, they understood
No one could whip up a meal like my grandparents could
Though time closed it down, I still say
I'm proud I grew up in the Wadley Cafe

It stands abandoned behind the old shrubs
Beside the closed down domino club
But I still remember days so sweet
In that little cafe down on Main Street