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.
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