coffeeshop on a miserable Monday

[supasayer]

coffeeshop on a miserable Monday

carrying the scars that come with age
the pensionable table sits just right of centre stage in the sunken seating booth
overlooking canal scenes
of ruddy rain shocked water
i can see, across its shit-coloured shimmering girth,
the shop where I pondered the purchase of a
one-wash-and-it’s-fucked tourist T-shirt
for my daughter
as a gift
but ever the thrift
decided ‘i would,
maybe,
later’

here i am
later
ever the waiter
not a geyser of silver service credentials
just a debater over purchasing even the essentials
i sit and wait
smoking my time
extending its length
catching the moments
and taking a breath
a slow-down smoking sesh
to regress all the stress
to invest my chest and my searching mind
in the art of taking time
just being Ste, myself and i
thankyou for joining me
adieu, peace out, goodbye

[weedguru_animal]

the second verse comes out wicked supasayer

[Black_Marauder]

I think you could definitely call yourself a poet. (which is a word I don't use very loosely)