A London Cafe

The raining was being thrown down by the gods, Poor Londoners held grey dripping newspapers over their heads, As they ran past my window, The warmth inside the Cafe makes me feel almost guilty, The smell of toast and coffee seduces my nostrils, The cup of undrunk coffee stands in front of me, I only bought it for the heat that radiates from it, This is heaven I thought, I must be the luckiest man in the world, Sitting in this comfortable chair, sinking into a warm paradise, As taxi's drive past splashing pedestrians with a tide of cold water, How lucky I am to be in a London Cafe...