Such is the force of recovery
That I have walked into town
On three or four occasions
The green leaves on black
Suggests the same bitter experience
With the American coffee deliveries
Outside, or across from
The Consortium, I sit in a room
Called the library
Where the other customers apologise
For being too too noisy
With their knives and forks
Which reminds me
Of Mucknell Abbey, where
We were told to be quiet
With our cutlery, especially
Not to scrape too too loudly
Across the crockery
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