the moon is a sickle
the sky a pastel palette
i slowly awake as dawn
gives a yawn
and a sleepy greeting

pillow soft, and warm
fragments of a dream
flicker in my mind
as I try to cling on to their meaning,

i can hear a distant sound
strangely familiar, a
subtle disturbance
becoming ever more present,
pressING
STRESSing
alarm! clock! rrrrringing

dr     a     g         g      i       ng
me out of the dream i was living in

and i am once again
born
unto
this new day

When you are in love
Daybreak brings you fairy dust
Glittering on fields of four-leaf clover.

When you are in love
Crows take music lessons
And sing to you Brahms Lullabies

When you are in love
The clock turns into Jello
And time loses all meaning when together

When you are in love
The Moon becomes your closest friend
And you can tell her all your secrets.

When you are in love
The world becomes a magic place
And you’re the Head Magician.
                 ljm

Broken Biro on the street
(That’s an English ball point pen.)
Crushed by cars’ uncaring wheels
It’s ink a useless smear.

What words could that ink
Have produced on sheets
Of clean white paper
Guided by a poet’s hand.

Visions of fantastic lands
That beckon with their beauty.
Invitations to explore
Another way of thinking.

Broken Biro on the street
Was it thrown out on purpose-
Obsoleted by a phone
That puts its words into the clouds.
             ljm