Outside the rain was pouring down <br />As I sat all alone within the dirty cafe, <br />That offered me shelter, but little else. <br />I amused myself as I waited <br />By reading the badly spelt menu <br />That hung behind the counter <br />Scrawled in chalk upon the blackboard, <br />And felt I was back in school. <br />The mustard coloured walls <br />Were damp with condensation, <br />While the floor was a chessboard <br />And I was the pawn. <br />As I leaned upon the red-checked tablecloth <br />I noticed that it was stained with brown rings <br />From the teacups that had once resided there. <br />I moved the sugar dispenser a little to the left <br />In order to hide the worst, <br />But I could not hide them all. <br />And still I waited, <br />As the silver raindrops <br />Ran slowly down the steamed up window pane, <br />That masked the view of the High Street, <br />So I could not see the row of empty shops that stood opposite, <br />Yet I knew that they were there. <br />So instead, <br />I listened to the sound of the bacon <br />As it sizzled within the frying pan, <br />And hoped it wouldn't take much longer to cook. <br /> <br />Copyright Andrew Blakemore 2011<br /><br />ANDREW BLAKEMORE<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/cafe-breakfast/
