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Sep 2014
pungent coffee, stains my mouth, as
i sit and drink in my surroundings,
a carnival of unknown people, parade,
and talk, and shuffle around, each
balancing a steaming cup, careful not
to spill a drop, as chaotic roar
of countless voices, bubble
and boil over into incoherence - the
background noise of modern age,
conversation rendered silent, in
this coffee house
Christopher Withers
Written by
Christopher Withers  UK
(UK)   
5.0k
     Victoria and SPT
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