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.


 

 

 

 

 


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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!!