A whining warble winces on the airwaves
My two fried eggs are slightly under-cooked
The menu sighs in misspelt carelessness
While the grammar stutters, stammers, overlooked
The waiter brings a healthy dose of caffeine
His early irritation dissipating with the clouds
I sit and sip and contemplate the day
Too early for the noise and raucous crowds
The art upon the walls fails to adorn
And floundering to please or stimulate
Seeks reassurance from the lifeless seats
Who hide their shame beneath the tables frame
And in the wake of such a pointless week
Of interruptions marred with ostentation
All talk has now subsided into calm
And now at last in muted rumination
Here I sit in solitude
Engrossed and yet at peace
Overcome with gratitude
And all is where it really ought to be
1st July 2021
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