Written quickly, tongue in cheek to read out at the opening night of a new coffee shop poetry venue
Silently though side streets dark, their collars to the wínd
They moved in ones, they moved in twos, the hallowed place to find
Under each arm the cherished words, held close to a gentle heart
Each would soon in a strange new place, unfold his special part
At last the venue hove in sight, next to the CNA
Pulses raced on that fateful night as each hoped to have his say
Would there be a welcome there and a mug of coffee warm?
Or would there be just a cold hard space, no solace from the storm?
Out of the shadows now they came, crowding the small front door
There were at first just one or two then ten then even more
Each one took up his chosen seat, content in his poet’s mind,
The promised spot was reached at last, they’d found the “Daily Grind”
Neal Allen. 2011