the little cafe by Me (Mitchell Ferguson

Mixed matched lamps,
There soft lighting drifting down
Summoning a connection
Between the candles below.
Indulging in warm savory goodness,
Of tea.
As it trickles down your throat with ease.
The sound of guitars
Echoing through the walls of the small café.
The flow of the trio’s voices
Giving you a dream like manor
Transport you into the early 1900’s.
Only reason your full body’s
Not been sent there,
Seeing that folksy tunes,
Are being begat by the array of instruments.