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Watching The World Go By
In a coffee shop window, I sit and stare
At all the people passing by, out there.
In London town, literally anything goes:
Zany hairstyles, as well as crazy clothes.
As a regular visitor, I'm now never surprised
At the sights, which I see set before my eyes.
People of all ages pass by: some young, some old;
Some wear quiet colours, while others wear bold.
Some have mobile phones pressed to their ear:
Their faces full of frowns - no trace of cheer.
But tourists keep a much more leisurely pace;
These are the people with a smile on their face.
Football supporters are just back from a game;
Fuelled with alcohol, they are less than tame.
A tramp searches for food in the nearby trash.
A busker plays his guitar, hoping for some cash.
Small children tightly hold their parents' hands;
The dangers of the city, they don't yet understand.
I see friends greet, and, each other, they happily hug;
The warmth between them, I feel in my coffee mug.
I see teenage girls with hair dyed red or bright blue;
And they dare to flash an amazing amount of flesh to.
Here, people aren't afraid to show just who they are.
Some of them drive around in really cool, funky cars.
London is so different from the town where I reside:
No one in the city feels as though they've got to hide.
Sitting, watching people, just makes the time really fly.
I love sitting in the window, watching the world go by.
poem
by
Angela Wybrow
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