<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=521259" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Morning Blues of London</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">I see reflections in the window, <br>My coffee, my only friend.<br>Waiting for my journey to begin.<br>My suitcase, my only possession<br>Yesterday’s clothes, yesterday’s photos<br>Yesterday’s dreams, all packed neatly for yesterday’s man</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The whistle, slowly we move off<br>Leaving yesterday life<br>As I ponder through my window, <br>I hear the track mocking, <br>“It’s all your fault”, “it’s all your fault”, “it’s all your fault”<br>No peace for yesterday man</div><div style="margin:10px 0">We pass fields of lavender, a reminder of when love was sweet<br>I see fields of barley, and hay bales<br>Where forbidden love was born<br>Then ploughed fields, the furrows of betrayal<br>Raking through my soul</div><div style="margin:10px 0">We pass a ruined castle, my dreams my hopes, all perished there<br>Swept away by the forces of passion, <br>Crumbling the walls of yesterday’s love, <br>My window of torment, reveals all “please go away”<br>For I want Today’s window, </div><div style="margin:10px 0">But my confession, rapes my mind<br>You see my wife loves another, <br>My neglect, my fault, all the judges agreed.<br>Into a tunnel, a respite from all this<br>A moment’s darkness<br>Alone again, with my coffee</div><div style="margin:10px 0">I’m still, rolling down the track of despair<br>The guard announcing the next station<br>“All change at Piccadilly, ”<br>“Connections for nowhere and oblivion”<br>“Platform Three”</div><div style="margin:10px 0">A rush of bowler Hats cram the doors<br>Anonymous souls leading anonymous lives<br>And me, with my cup of coffee, alone with the window, </div><div style="margin:10px 0">I see reflections once more, <br>I lay my pen down, <br>And I Thank god that’s not me.<br>Oh how I hate Monday mornings, <br>Time to leave</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Steven+Cooke">Steven Cooke</a><div class=q> <img src="https://www.citatepedia.ro/g/32share.png" style="float:left" alt="Share"> <script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=521259" data-title="Morning Blues of London de Steven Cooke" data-description="I see reflections in the window, My coffee, my only friend. Waiting for my journey to begin. My suitcase, my only possession Yesterday’s clothes, yesterday’s photos Yesterday’s dreams, all packed neatly for yesterday’s man The whistle, s..."></div> </div> </div>

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