A Perfect Place
Pull up a chair in my favourite spot
Savouring aged single malt.
Music playing, not to loud
Looking up from a book to observe passers by
While away a little time
Simple and pleasant
Perfect me time?
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How much better it would be
To pick up something new to read at will
A thousand stories, poems and thoughts
Not just observe the passes by but get into their heads
And as I muse, for my thoughts to drift and merge with theirs.
Not to glimpse over my read a little embarrassed
That I may be thought staring.
But to engage on a level beyond simple conversation.
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I have discovered such a place exists
Beyond physical realms
Where it is not just I
Who sits and sips, music caressing as I read
I sit alone in my world surrounded by others
Peering over their reads
Opening their hearts and their minds beckoning me in
I read and I write no longer are they just fabricated words.
They are life’s glorious colours shared in black and white
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Where is this place?
This library of life.
This forum of philosophy.
This Psychiatrists couch.
You are here with me, looking around
You, just as I, have discovered this learned place
Where solace and good advice can be found
Don’t be deceived by the simple name
Booksie
A perfectly private space shared with friends.
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