Your heart is pouring out

like black coffee.

You're a dog in a shuttle 

with it’s engines

burned out

in the vacuum of space.

You're a ghost

In the window

behind which lies a

a mountain of snow

thick with fir trees.

You’re the sole passenger 

on a train headed north,

your luggage is rattling

over your head

your destination

unreadab...

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Watching

bodies trampled

at the gates to another life,

all the screaming,

sobbing 

and scared eyes

of children clinging 

to their parents legs,

while I lay here in

the quiet of a weekend afternoon,

the coffee cup 

cooling on my chest,

my child nearby

watching the television,

something about

super hero dogs,

my heart aches

as if running low

of w...

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The route to happiness

Is to expect less of things,

so they say,

to leave alone the sorrow, 

the slaughter and

put your feet up awhile

and marvel at whatever 

small mercies materialise 

before you;

the universe of dust

in afternoon light,

the steam spiralling 

from the coffee cup

resting upon your chest,

the sparrows 

leaping in...

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Adrift in the middle 

of our lives,

I watch you 

enshrined by the steam 

of your coffee,

eyes turned downwards

as you captively

butter your English muffin.

The morning light

revealing treasures

we thought

all unearthed.

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