Dim hues of warm light from the cafe,
rests on the cobbledstone street,
The air, a touch of moisture, a gust of wind.
Faint scent of a cuppa pervades the air,
and just a tinge of the aroma of a cigar.

Drizzle, only felt, not be seen.

The wooden radio gently comes to life.
May I?

The notes linger in the air.
And only with the our eyes as audiences,
we danced all night.