Oh, the Memories

After the great World War, WW II
My Dad bought a tavern
On 45th Ave, close to the U.
The name I recall, from the past
Was the Looking Glass.
A small little place
For as you walked in the door,
The bar was on the left
And booths on the right.
It wasn't unusual
For the Veterans to fight.
I would go with my Dad
After church, on Sunday morn
And sit at the bar
As Dad worked. I drank a coke
And could smell the sour spilled beer.
Vivid memories, do my mind clog,
I ate a pickled Polish Dog.
Years have passed
And the Tavern is still there,
With a different name.
Stopped in one time on our way
From a Soccer match at Lower Woodland.
Same place, Walk in the door
Bar on the left and booths on the right.
Had a small beer, but skipped the dog
A great memory for that night.