By Deb Jones
Click here if you'd like to exchange critiques
Copyright 2003 Deb Jones
The fragrance of magnolia trees
Beignets from the local bakery
And gumbo from Moliere's
Intoxicate the evening breeze
The steet car channels up and down Saint Charles
As the clang clang of the bell seduces it's passengers Challenging
them to a secret rendezvous Peddlers and artist display their wares
While the sounds of Bourbon Street can be herd
The sweet melodies from the saxophone the clarinet And the
trombone play
their own rendition
Of a lover's song
All that jazz with so much pizzazz
Naw-Lins
New Orleans
The ambiance the grace the charm
Holds you captive and cradles you in it's arms
You are drawn like a moth to a flame
The cobblestone streets made of clay and mortar
They beckon and call you by name
Tourist all dressed up as if going to a ball
Will also heed the call of the French quarter
With it's mirrored reflection of a resurrected time of ole
Full of mystery and folklore
Naw-Lins
That's New Orleans
Yeah