Centre To The Heart The Traffic Lights Poem by Mark Heathcote

Can we decrypt any meanings from glass?
Look on my work travels today,
I saw a hand-printed heart, was it crass...
Newly frosted, on the bus, I did weigh.

As; it pulled-up, in a busy city lane.
Centre to the heart of traffic lights
Red then amber green through the pane.
This isn't subliminal, flights!

Thoughts ran… what does this mean…?
And what would it really, matter
If it hadn't ever been seen
Hearts break quite unforeseen
But will this glass mirror ever shatter?