First Touch...

6 a.m. Melbourne
il fiore piu bello e profumato (Frangiapanni)
cercando casa a "Paradise"..?

The Trip

Lifting the bottle
to his parched lips
the revolting liquid
his hungry throat
did not want to miss.

With a grunt in a groan
into an empty well
the dirty brown liquid
fell like a stone.

The wormth in his blood
started to flow
eyes glazed
word become slow

Floating into universe
warm sun explodes
into a cascade of brillance
of flowing fun.

Where did I go wrong?
he gently weeps
resting his haed
on the evening star
as he goes into a blissful sleep.

Alf Taylor - Singer Songwriter