Sunday, January 18, 2009

With stolen memories and a borrowed pen...

Cobbled narrow twisty streets
And a charming old coffee shop
The smell of rain and foamy dreams
Trickling down my coffee mug

Filled with magic and a dash of wonder
And the essence of thundering skies so grey
Drink slowly for not coffee my dear
It is a sip of my soul you take

Look, out of the window he said
And find the lady with spindles and bells
A bar of hope, a pinch of love
And sometimes a bucket of miracles she sells

Not deep love nor mighty wonders
Or the bundles of woven charms I seek
Just coffee beans and cobbled streets
And a borrowed pen is all I need

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