It's a Beautiful Morning
It's a beautiful morning, Spring is in the air. I feel the warmth of it as I head around the corner for coffee and the newspaper at my local cafe. That smell, fresh, alive, it is unmistakable.
The sun is warm. A lazy Wednesday, I think. Maybe, I should try and find some work, but my bank balance is still healthy and I wonder why, exactly, I might want to do that. That old conditioning is hard to shake.
There are quite a few people having breakfast at my local, none of whom look very interesting. Does that translate into no cute men, I wonder? I scold myself for being so shallow. Not too harshly, though, you understand.
Oh, go on, fat chick with the bad hair, thrill me. How about you Mr Baldi with spindly fingers, amaze me. What about you granny, blow my mind.
I have eggs and two coffees and read The Age from cover to cover. I sit in the window and watch the world go by. Joggers. Dog walker. Women with prams. Gay boys, dare I say it, chatting gayly.
The sun is warm. A lazy Wednesday, I think. Maybe, I should try and find some work, but my bank balance is still healthy and I wonder why, exactly, I might want to do that. That old conditioning is hard to shake.
There are quite a few people having breakfast at my local, none of whom look very interesting. Does that translate into no cute men, I wonder? I scold myself for being so shallow. Not too harshly, though, you understand.
Oh, go on, fat chick with the bad hair, thrill me. How about you Mr Baldi with spindly fingers, amaze me. What about you granny, blow my mind.
I have eggs and two coffees and read The Age from cover to cover. I sit in the window and watch the world go by. Joggers. Dog walker. Women with prams. Gay boys, dare I say it, chatting gayly.
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