by, Samantha Syrnich TLC
White-washed walls with stories deep,
A lion guards where memories sleep.
From film crew’s laugh to actor’s sigh,
Stage Six whispers when reels ran dry.
London Pride and ESB flow,
Where garden lanterns softly glow.
The oak beams hum with songs long gone,
Yet carry warmth as night drifts on.
A haven close to Broadway’s song,
Where strangers pause, and friends belong.
With every pint,
the tales revive—
The Red Lion keeps its heart alive.
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The Phoenix Quill: Words Born of Fire, Inked in Truth 