My True Morning Error.

Morning breaks my restful sleep and guides me to my need. I try to move as fast I can but my bladder seems to lead. At last the room is now revealed, the porcelain dome in site. I gaze upon the dimming tiles by now reflect the light. So now I make way downstairs in search of something hot. My yearning grows as I look around, but there's nothing in the pot. Now were's that woman, that hag the crone. Never has she let me down or left me all alone. Lazy now, I try to bring, my senses back around. This task is mighty daunting without that boiling sound. I Step outside and stretch my limbs, screams are all around. What is up with all this noise, I want a peaceful sound. I rub my eye's and look about, to try and catch the fool. So now I blush and see them all, staring at my tool.