Poems From a Runaway - An early cuppa

An early cuppa

I just want a cup of tea, and get out of the rain,
So I pack up all Ive got and clean my cardboard up again.
Its half-past five in the morning, didnt get to sleep until four,
And I know that another food delivery will need me away from the door.

Once in a while Im thrown a drink, some crisps or a piece of fruit,
Sometimes Im simply asked to move, and I know its time to shoot.
Sometimes I would ask how long they would be, and have a laugh and joke,
And if I know they wont be long Id just try and get a smoke.

But now Ill try to find a café, and get a cup of tea,
Maybe in there have a wash and get some warmth in me.
Get this chill right out my bones and I will be alright,
Got to stop this nose from running because Ive been up all night.

So I turn off Piccadilly towards a café Id seen before,
I could see some taxi drivers, as I got to the door.
I walked in with my rucksack and my sleeping bag poked out,
But there I could not buy a tea, leave now the owner would shout.

We do not want you in here, you sleep out in the dirt,
Your sleeping bag is filthy, and your face and shirt.
Dont come back in here again, youll have to go elsewhere,
I left by calling him a prick, I felt he didnt care.

Nowhere else had opened yet, so I made my way,
Back to a bookshop on Piccadilly and sat in the doorway.
Morning workers walked on by and up the road they went,
Id begged up forty quid last night and none of it Ive spent.

Ill wait a little longer, for the cafe down the road,
Only kindness and compassion, the staff in that one showed.
Theyve never kicked me out of there; sometimes theyd give me stuff,
Theyd pass by on their way to work, and see Im sleeping rough.

Id pop in there often and Id go to have a wash,
Id lock the door put down my bag and take my t-shirt off.
Ill wash my face and wash my bits until the door would knock,
I often thought that they would think that I was smoking rock.

 By now morning is well here and Im feeling warmer now,
I always know Ill be alright, in the end somehow.
Its taken me around three hours, to buy a cup of tea,

But this one here really does taste nice, and they gave it me for free.

Poetry written by Ben Westwood, Musician and poet. UK
Copyright Ben Westwood. 

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