Slow Drip Brood

Lagging the sunrise, he sizes the day Sleep was a stranger, came deep in the night Try though he may, he can not make a plan His instincts tell him not all will be well Coping, there between moping and hoping Pouring coffee, ignoring the cough he developed, enveloped in sweat last night Off to the shower, he's dreading the hour, the 405 drive, and then to arrive, with nothing to say, in meetings all day To make matters worse, the trip in reverse Stare at the ceiling, devoid of feeling Resistance, futile; existence, brutal Six months estranged now - it's time for a change ---------- Lannet: 14 lines of 10 syllables like a sonnet, but internal rhymes only https://www.writersdigest.com/write-better-poetry/lannet-poetic-forms