He sits at his usual café table. Lank, sparse hair is plastered across his bald patch and his burly body is wrapped in a tattered, grey anorak. No-one gives him a second glance, yet inside lurks the soul of poet.
- Liz Terry – my random ramblings My blog, where I write about anything that inspires me – politics, religion, feminism…you name it!
- Naomi Young's blog My friend’s blog which you may like if you like this one!