Rising, Shining Unlikely

I'd blame my wife, who's hyperactive,
But she is, in fact, asleep as something
Forces me from bed. What is it?
Where I lay is warm. My nose
Suggests the room is cold. I've
Had to work for eight days straight,
And I'm exhausted, even now,
Despite the hours I've spent here,
And my back and my shoulders
Ache, so why must I get up and
Dress? Am I, the idle commie
Poet, Puritan by heritage, and
Doomed by my unwanted genes
To damn myself for staying prone?
What tasks am I compelled to do?
I cannot think of even one, but I
Must rise. Perhaps I must to
Justify a nap.



Poetry by Lawrence Beck The PoetBay support member heart!
Read 60 times
star mini Editors' choice
Written on 2013-12-07 at 15:15

dott Save as a bookmark (requires login)
dott Write a comment (requires login)
dott Send as email (requires login)
dott Print text