The Junction

The sign in the corner flashes day and night, in all kinds of weather

Announcing breakfast all day, always fresh, just like home

And on the opposite corner a sign just as shiny

Red and green, huge burning letters, bright and sunny

The Brown motel on the junction that is;

Hot showers, breakfast in season, welcome. Welcome!

Sylvia’s diner all silver and chrome,

Steaming pancakes drenched in syrup, muffins glazed,

 Sizzling bacon, corn bread, eggs three ways,

There is no other place for breakfast all day

Then Sylvia’s diner on the opposite way,

Where the two roads join together

 And the Brown motel sits right there on the corner.

Built almost sixty years ago to the day,

By Mr. and Mrs. Mary Brown from away.

They should have named it Sylvia's junction,

She whispers to everyone who steps in.

“Brown, it was always Brown,” old Mary Brown will swear.

All the town residents, men women and child,

Sixty one not to count the ones who are gone

And not one remembers another name.

In this one horse town there is no other place to sleep,

The Brown junction’s everlasting motel is it.

We’ll call it Sylvia’s junction by day and Brown junction by night,

In the town meeting both women finally hugged.

 All the town people, men women and child,

Sixty one not to count the dead ones,

Know that for a good night rest

The Brown junction’s motel is the best.

All the town people, men women and child,

Know there is no other place for breakfast all day

Then Sylvia’s diner on the opposite way.

Where the two roads join together

Only one sign flashes now,

Brown’s motel and Sylvia’s diner, on the junction.

Twenty two rooms, breakfast all day,

For all of you people who come this way.