Monday, 3 June 2019

Every. Precious. Heartbeat.


The brouhaha in a haze
held at bay by thick layers of glass
serpentine flow of passers-by
cars rushing like a dam overspill – 
such calm, alone in the coffee shop

the barista out of sight with a mop

– on my own in the heart of London,
that's one in ten million chances –

yet soon someone will
open the door and let it all in
avalanching the tundra in my heart.
 

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