David Taylor (3rd January 1956 / LONDON, UK)

Slowly waking to a broken dawn
heart seems to shrink
at the rapid inflow of thoughts
like pouring hot tea
over a cup of ice;
yes the ice is still there
like little bits of hardened heart
floating in, then becoming a familiar flavour
which I sweeten with sugary ambition
and mellow with milky dreams…

If only the heart floated
like vapour in the air and then,
the tea drunk pure.
Slowly waking to a breaking dawn
with heart permeating air,
only one life everywhere.