Poem: 5:45 of the Morning Clock
Five Forty Five
It's five fortyfive of the morning clock,
I'm falling into old clothes now ad hoc.
It's far too early why the hell am I up?
isn't the fact I'm awake enough?
I shake off resentment and shuffle down stairs,
holding off the days' worth of woes and cares.
The kettle boils as the mugs sit calm,
Gathering the breakfast things I balance'em on me arm.
The coffee steam rises under my nose,
sending a tingle from my head to my toes.
Two sips snuck as I'm creeping past doors,
A mouthful of toast leaves me hungry for more.
In I tip-toe and I'm looking to the bed,
where the love of my life lifts a sleep tussled head.
The smile that I get flicks that switch deep inside,
that turns on my happiness and takes me up high.
I'd make a million breakfasts in the cold mist of morning,
if met by that bright smile in day's early dawning.
Other Poetry by me...
- A nonsense poem: The love of Orpius was Joysome
A romantic nonsense poem about how two monsters met and fell in love.
- Poem: Nine in the Morning Mental ramble on a Christmas theme
A poem inspired by a cold office morning in the lead up to Christmas
Poems from other hubbers
- A series of short poems written in the morning
poetry musings written first thing in the morning