Between the Showers

on a June afternoon

sipping  tea alone

in the old basement scullery

gone…

now bright

painted off white

outside the traffic rumbles

unseasonal wind grumbles

leaving the city street

forlorn

while between the sips

shadows gather

dance across the room

occupy the places

memories of old workmates

gone…moved on

fragments…

between the showers

on a June afternoon…

Thatcher Doran

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About pmisteil

Hi, my name is Paul though I write under other names like, Thatcher and Paolo, I love literature, art and architecture their passion and drama....the contradictions. The notion of Truth-who is the person behind the mask? Or does it matter! I like long walks and longer conversations over cappuccinos in a cafe with atmosphere and the rest is a journey!
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