Author: midnighteyes-xo PM
The daily struggle, the absolute horrors we must face everyday...known as morning.Rated: Fiction K+ - English - Humor - Words: 236 - Reviews: 4 - Published: 06-30-05 - id: 1951837
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Rolled and groaned and tore the sheets
Made to exit the suffocating heat.
Snarled at the light that came through the blinds,
Heaved a sigh as I wiped my weary eyes.
Oh, the grandness of the dawn!
Beauty in the pallet, and the birds' graceful songs.
This charming time is simply not for me:
I'd rather wake up at quarter to three.
But I must remove myself from this bed,
And greet the day with a pounding head.
My throat it aches and tears my voice,
It's morning: How could I possibly rejoice?
I stretch and yawn and slowly shift
My body in a single lift.
I look around in much dismay:
My room is always messier at the start of the day.
I pluck my hairbrush from the piles,
I walk down the hall: it seems to go on for miles.
At last I reach the bathroom door,
Feeling like a marooned pirate swimming to shore.
I brush my teeth and wash my face,
I comb my hair at a rather slow pace.
Am I feeling less sleepy? Absolutely not.
The tire has me drunk like a very strong draught.
And so with drained limbs I move on with my day,
To work and study, to laugh and play.
When I return to my bed I fall in with a grin,
Though it disappears at the thought of waking again.