Sunrise teases through cheap blinds

as the gently shaded share bursts 

into life again. Ready for madness

to crash and simmer through.

Between two sun-fat couches and 

a worn-out coffee table, they 

play out their lives and memories.

Restored by muted secrets and wine.

Something’s so special about the daily

path of those lost and incredible hearts.

The soldier sings sweet old etcetera 

while she waits for her war to come.

Across is that reluctant Australian

trying to build herself a life that makes sense.

A man assures us he can fly as

he explains the world’s problems away.

And the Ghost Song Woman sits restlessly 

tripped up in a myth of eternal return. 

But that daring mouse schemes away

as he busies himself with empty words 

then watches parliament as a sport. 

This is their place, theirs, and worlds.

Here we see them, every pain

dancing alongside every joy.

Once the day sets past that island,

locked in an impatient empty tower.

The hearts beat together, sipping and 

smoking away at time in perpetuity.

Tomorrow with that intoxicated return.

Sunbliss and TV chatter gently fills the room,

whilst days drift across the time capsule kitchen

where we measure out our lives in coffee spoons.