Coffee Shop Poet
By 1stpoet
Coffee Shop Poet Sitting, sipping dreaming, writing time drifts in the smoke in the steam rising from the black coffee words whisper softly to me the language of my muse from Istanbul to Thailand Iceland to Ireland dialects are dipped into as my pen moves distant lands traveled by the mapping of words a roadway drawn by ink the smell of Indian incense and the hot sands of the Sahara fill you, and scorch you as you read In the ashes on the floor you see my footprints yet I have walked within your mind you taste me the clove in the air Black cigarettes, oiled sweetly I am the coffee shop poet I am the world you live in I am the words that you read I am eternal May 6, 2001 © Copyright 2001 1st Poet Inc. William S. Dawes Written May 6th, 2001 © on Jan 03 2002 08:21 AM PST 0 • 10
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"Coffee Shop Poet..."