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.