Tina's Cafe

Out on the beach slowly night fell
gold Dobro strings they casted a spell.
A tenor sax played its jazz sounds
filling the air with its magic rounds
and as they played, their blue notes rebound.
A cool voice sang across the night
lamenting softly casting a light
on ink-blue water, black Melanite.
A full moon sprayed its bright light in a way to set the stage so that it would
display the sand pathway to Tina’s café.
At the bar sat an old rocker
blistered fingers from his Fender
he kept strummin' without hinder.
The night grooved on, it seemed to slip away the moon shinned full,
a spotlight to display the sand pathway to Tina’s café.
And when country night comes
Tina leaves her bar to become the star
playing her guitar with a sax not too far.
When the summer fades far away
living the beach dark in disarray
the wild sea breezes will just betray
the Tina’s Café.
Written: Brussels-Feb. 2013