Friday, 18 March 2011


The smell of wood, the taste of coffee,
the wrench out of my bed in the morning
still ringing in my ears.
In floods the new day
through the gap around a door,
too small for its frame,
hello brain, hello head ache, hello morning.
Out are the dreams
of a world so perfect, yet unintelligible,
slowly as the blur comes into focus
and I wipe the sleep from my eyes,
there is day, there is work,
there is a new piece
to the same puzzle
that has puzzled me for years.

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