In the heart of the city
on a cloudless,
sun hot,
breeze free day,
we slipped through
the arch
on Young Street,
behind the museum.
Passion fruit
was the juice
of the day,
sipped to a serenade
of national folk music
being rehearsed
behind
these doors.
The aroma of
a sumptuous feast,
escaping the
proprietor's
inner sanctum,
enveloped us.
Spellbound,
with the scent
of culinary alchemy,
we sated our thirst
with one last swallow.
The unseen musicians
dispersed,
giving us
a timely cue
to leave,
the way we had come.