High up in the Shenandoah
  A wee bit past the house of Noah
Along the business Route 11
  There you'll find big parts of Heaven.

A place of myth that lights the sky
  As big old trucks sail sweetly by
Not a diner, they say 'collective'
  I use it as my Soul corrective.

Go there hungry, go there irate
  They'll fill your Soul, your needs they'll sate
If it's Tuesday, bring taste for salsa
  That's when the plates get dished up faster.

If it's Thursday with Chris in voice
  To stay for words, you have no choice
That's when our friends, like Jedidiah
  Feed us with thoughts, sweet mind's desire.

Go there empty, you'll get your fill
They have Big Hearts at Little Grill.
© 2006 by Michael J. Farrand

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