Sunday, 7 February 2010

Fish Dream of Tea

Hurry up and wait. I'm late, I'm late.
Shoes like lead, legs like weights, this was running you did in dreams.
I long to throw off all restraint and swim upwards
as fish fall upwards and call it dying
so I find my home here,
right here in this cup of warm tea
spoon swirling sugar and ginger
the honey and the lemon dancing around each other
sweetly, bitterly, gracefully in tune.
The notes falling from her footsteps become a song.

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