My second entry for week 3 of The Poet's Pub 2nd Annual Biggest Competition Ever 2017

Sleep walking through the darkness

Like a zombie to catch the train

The waft of coffee fills my nose

And from the tip of it drips the rain

The clock reads 7.15 am

Time for the busker to play his guitar

He strums his strings and sings along

Working through his repertoire

I flick the coin of gold

His tip bottle clinks as my aim is true

He raises his head, smiles and says

'Any special requests for you?'