why the sea is boiling hot

some golden morning has come

the shyest dawn which peeped through curtains

and parrots and exotic birds of love

and clouds in the shapes of heroes and gods

and great golden beasts charging across dawns palest sides

leaves are one thousand shades of green

branches of silver catching light from the sky

the crow like a bassoon mournfully wails miles away

the houses are so still…. not one moves

all those lovely people sleeping peacefully

dreaming of cosy things like tea and toast

and throwing themselves into morning like this

breakfast by one of welwyn garden city’s lovely ponds

or half a vegemite roll from lyneham primary’s school canteen

i wake up on the morning of a big exam

its november and I’m eighteen

the world so full of promises

i lie in my bed so young and tanned

i was dreaming of milky flesh girls and luxuriant kisses

my mother knocking on the door

my father revving up his mazda rotary

my brothers watching some cartoon on television