Poetry of Fox

Six O'Clock in the Morning

Six o'clock in the morning, the sun hiding in a gray sky;
I hear the sound of rain falling and I ask myself why?

Should I not still be sleeping, somehow it doesn't seem right;
To awaken so early in the morning, after being up half the night.

I force myself to get moving and stumble across my darken room;
Putting up the window shade and peering, my eyes assaulted by gloom.

Donning my robe and my slippers, I work my way down the hall;
But parts of me are still sleeping and I bounce from wall to wall.

I finally get to the bathroom and the mirror reflects eyes blood-shot red;
And the taste in my mouth, not to mention my breath, I wonder if I am dead.

But all this aside, Mother Nature having called, I find out the worst yet;
As I step away from the toilet, I suddenly realize, my left slipper is wet.

With a sigh and flash of inspiration, I vow the shower to be my only hope;
But only minutes later, I wrench my back, having slipped on the damn soap.

I cautiously head back to the bedroom, and now that all is done and said;
I consider this a valuable lesson and gratefully GO BACK TO BED!!!!!!!!

Fox