A poem from class… pre-the post-class revision

Mornings

 

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.

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