A coffee-maker grumbles, and I
Awake in bed, hold shut my eyes
And pine for sleep and fickle night
But sunrise wreaks unceasing light.
Unhurried haste from pillows pulls
My tangled head; I, blinking, dull,
Escape from sheets to plod at last
Across the floor; to break my fast–
A hunk of bread, a slice of cheese,
Again the morning pleasantries–
And coffee, from its maker freed
Gives wings to eyes, and lets them read
The lengthening hour–I must to school–
But pause, for morning ritual;
Nut-brown scents and sour-yeast leaven
Are dearest tastes of absent heaven.
I linger but a moment longer;
The lure of bed grows ever stronger;
The morning, like a heady brew,
Has forgotten all I have to do–
But wait–it’s almost half-past-ten!
I, frenzied, rush to class–but then
Discover, to my great dismay,
Today is actually Saturday.