He picked himself up off the floor,
Wiped away the dried blood from his teeth and upper lip,
And limped effortfully down the road,
It was seven o’clock in the morning and the greasy spoon,
In the heart of Hackney was calling him for a dirty breakfast,
That he knew with no effort whatsoever,
He could polish off in five greedy minutes.
Sapphire Elisha 
Like the way you present us, so economically, with a person and a place, a scenario – almost a story, and the lines nicely crafted.
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Thank you very much 🙂
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