Quiet becomes the night when lights dim
as the day’s labour is done.
Would a drink pamper the tired limbs?
A cafe breathes on a cobbled stone street-
Just across jingles a two-men band
with a guitar and steel drums,
and I, with a cold beer in hand.

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About Rahul Aithal

I am from Mumbai, India. Composing poems gives me immense pleasure. Few poetic sites I write on are -,, and, recently Avant-Garde-Writer's Haven (on Facebook). You could browse my other writes on my private blog, I am glad to have joined this site, thanks to Louis. I hope to add value and get the group going.

4 thoughts on “Cafe

  1. Louis Kasatkin

    Eloquent and neatly understated. In keeping with Rahul’s inimitable style , this poem has the quality of a holiday snapshot about it ; saying much more than contained in the scope of the narrative.


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