This breakfast room itself was once a ballroom,

But to see it now you wouldn`t ever know,

For the faded beige and greys

Don`t reflect those heady days

Before rot set in and cracks began to show

Now we`re staring at our plates like all the others,

`We`ve said all there is to say, there`s nothing more`.

So it comes as no surprize,

We just lamely raise our eyes,

As our love falls off a silver tray

And shatters on the floor.

Hotel De Paris.

Our love affair's become an English breakfast,

Served in a hotel somewhere on the coast,

What was champagne and zing

Has become a shrivelled thing,

Half cold tea, a greasy egg, unwanted toast.






















Roger Eno is the surprise stranger at Salthouse's Coffee/Gossip morning. This is the poem he was writing which had to be written after his impromtu night's stay on the East coast.
See all about him: his Home Page ; his Music Biography; at Wikipedia ; YouTube or just Google him!!