A Matins Lament

After, raging, rude alarms

Drag me up from comfort’s pit,

Heated water pounding down 

Upon my weary upturned face

Just may be the perfect hit;

This dreary morning’s saving grace.

I wonder what would be the harm,

I know I dare not sit,

Of slipping back to that warm embrace

But now I’m up with things to do,

Rats to race-

Where’s my other shoe?

Thus another day’s begun.

Please, dear God, make it fun.

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