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The Meeting Place

Coffee shop observations.

The scratch of a pen.
Notebook leaves flap.
‘Phone ringtones buzz
and sing and ring, starting
one-sided converations.
Friendly chats around the
tables, over cups of steaming
and iced beverages.
Laughter echoes.
Students. Business people.
Unemployed.
Middle class homemakers,
getting in a break from
their runs and then
off to the high end market
or for a beauty treatment
before home to catch up on
their daily dose of soap operas.
We are all here.
The fix we need comes quick,
whether caffeine, company
or that wireless connection
to the wider world,
outside of this oasis.

An original poem – please seek permission before reproducing in any way.

Needing Sleep

Eyes, feeling dry and
cracked, like riverbeds
in a drought.

Throat, tight and swollen,
tonsils of rubber brushing
the gag reflex.

Heart, racing like a
locomotive’s engine at
full, unfettered speed.

Head, aching ever so
slightly, causing barely
perceptible dizziness.

Coffee, hot and sweet
bitter and biting,
yet pure delight.

An original poem – please seek permission before reproducing in any way.