I walked along the Boulevard Saint-Germain
a weary tourist traveling in time
wanting to rest
before returning
to the twenty-first century.
I came to the corner
of Boulevard Saint-Germain
and the Rue Saint-Benoît,
the Café de Flore,
with its outdoor tables
beckoned me to pause
and rest my aching feet.
All the tables,
except one,
were occupied
by couples planning
romantic rendezvous.
Alone,
at a table near the door,
sat a Polydactyl cat;
I stroked the creatures dark head
and then lower my aching body
into the chair next to him.
A waiter soon brought
a bottle of wine,
two glasses,
and a note that read:
"Please don't give
Ernest Hemingway Cat
more than one glass of wine
or he is yours
for the rest of time."
All Writing.Com images are copyrighted and may not be copied / modified in any way. All other brand names & trademarks are owned by their respective companies.
Generated in 0.10 seconds at 6:00pm on Nov 10, 2024 via server WEBX1.