Strands of hair get under my eyelids
Get in the way of my drowsy mind
And refuse to leave gently...
This morning is a mess of thoughts
Entangled while I slept, Filaments
Of dreams enmeshed with some
Withered flowers on my pillow.

From my window I can see
The Lucky Tea Stall outside
Brewing a morning sun
In a scorched aluminium pan.
And clusters of people like me
Sipping from cups of scalding liquid
To undo the confusion of night.