The chime of the door as the guests walk in,
Where the evening's stories and meals begin.
The clatter of forks and the clinking of glass,
As the ghosts of the day are allowed to pass.
The scent of the kitchen—a spicy embrace,
Brings a glow of delight to every face.
A waiter glides by with a balanced tray,
Chasing the hunger of the world away.
In the corner booth, under candlelight's gleam,
Two lovers are lost in a quiet dream.
While a family laughs near the window pane,
Forgetting the chill of the evening rain.
The menu is a map of a distant land,
Crafted with heart and a steady hand.
From sizzling plates to the coolest of sweets,
The rhythm of life is found in these seats.
The chef is a maestro, the stove is his stage,
Writing a poem on a porcelain page.
The white linen cloths and the napkins folded,
Where memories and flavors are beautifully molded.
When the coffee is poured and the night grows old,
The finest of tales have already been told.