Cafe Of Broken Dreams

Poem By Joe Howell

She worked in confortable shoes
with thick soles, polished in hearts
of lovers that beg not to be forgoten

At my table I sat with coffee
three day growth of whiskers
a full collection of anger filled words

A skinny kid with acne scared skin
plunging stolen quarters into a
juke box full of yesterday's songs

And the waitress smiled and winked
seeing my nerves lying on the table...
knew her power over me
At the Cafe of Broken Dreams

Comments about Cafe Of Broken Dreams

A poem as sad as yesterday's song. Very poignant. Great write, Joe! Warm regards, Sandra


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