Back in a place that was once full of grace and the choristers sang so serene!But now it’s a gaff with some shops and a caff that religiously seems so obscene.
Up high in the rafters, with sounds of kids laughter, enjoying a nice cup of tea. The owner has given me southern fried chicken, well that’s a surprise dish for me.
The hippies are coming, the straight people running away from patchouli and hemp. Two young kids behind me talk over a latte about their last festival tent!
I listen intently as words bound around me, acoustically whispering loud. But stories are lost,that’s the price, NOT the cost of finding the mass of the crowd.
So costal caffs call once again through the squall as the sea beats a rhythmic heartbeat. And it’s down the hatch dears, as the Earl Grey appears as my arse is now glued to this seat.