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Unemployed Mornings
The early sun burns through my window
Pointing its accusing rays on me
“Late! It is late! ” It seemed to say
Urging me awake from a slumber
That bears down a heavy load upon my shoulders
Such that I cannot rise from where I lay.
“Late! It is late! ” The sun seemed to say,
The heat annoying as it graze my skin.
Urging me awake, urging
Like a lady who’s kept waiting on date
A couple of hours too late.
What would I give for a couple more hours of sleep
While the rest of the world is frenzied;
The sound of hurried hooves outside scurry
To earn the right for a meal.
Me? The rest of my afternoon looms
Empty as vacuum.
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