Good Morning

Half a cup of 20 second brewed tea
the rest poured through the sink
from my wide lipped enamel cup.
My allocated snooze-time the victor, overrunning this morning.

The lone seat left is a child’s naughty step
At the tram’s front facing the wall.
Flying passed crossed junctions with Warsan Shire, Frank O’Hara and Seamus in toe.

Today’s a steely blue
like those eyes that seem to just look right through you…
picking apart your thoughts before they leave your lips.

A cheeky wave to Amaal as I ascend
to the 1st floor where I see the little bees filing in.
Their heads bowed, hands concealed,
rolling lint
remnant of the tissue they forgot in the wash.


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