An early cuppa
I just want a cup of tea, and get out of the rain,
So I pack up all I’ve got and clean my cardboard up again.
Its half-past five in the morning, didn’t get to sleep until four,
And I know that another food delivery will need me away from the door.
Once in a while I’m thrown a drink, some crisps or a piece of fruit,
Sometimes I’m simply asked to
move, and I know it’s time to shoot.
Sometimes I would ask how long they would be, and have a laugh and joke,
And if I know they won’t be long I’d just try and get
a smoke.
But now I’ll 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 I’ve been up all night.
So I turn off Piccadilly towards a café I’d 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.
Don’t come back in here
again, you’ll have to go
elsewhere”,
I left by calling him a prick, I felt he didn’t 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,
I’d begged up forty
quid last night and none of it I’ve spent.
I’ll wait a little
longer, for the cafe down the road,
Only kindness and compassion, the staff in that one showed.
They’ve never kicked me
out of there; sometimes they’d give me stuff,
They’d pass by on their
way to work, and see I’m sleeping rough.
I’d pop in there
often and I’d go to have a
wash,
I’d lock the door put
down my bag and take my t-shirt off.
I’ll 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 I’m feeling warmer now,
I always know I’ll be alright, in the end somehow.
It’s 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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