A Night at the Maple Leaf
Another romantic poem from my back catalogue. I hope you enjoy.
I dance through the narrow lanes, As Tipatina gently plays, My life is syncopation, That only she hears.The lanes are groves, And the tune rattles like a smoking train on buckled rails, Stumbling thinly through the night, Its single light picks out the traveller walking on, Who has no place to go, But beyond where he has been before, The plotted route of tracks are clear, You paint your nails as I sing, To a record worn...