Triumphant Day
It is very still.
The house enclosed in a giant whisper
Of sleep and dreaming.
The clock,
Having quite a high opinion of himself,
Loudly ticks off each second.
A reminder that I have no time to waste.
"Hurry, get up,"
He prods and pokes,
"The day is starting without you."
Damn the clock!
Let the day begin and end!
I pull the covers over my head,
Seeking refuge in my blankets.
But what is that?
That Heavenly aroma?
The smell of coffee tickles my nose,
Enticing me once again awake,
I cannot resist.
A slave,
I obey.
The day triumphs once again.
Please login or register
You must be logged in or register a new account in order to
Login or Registerleave comments/feedback and rate this poem.