Despite the Morning
In a warm bed,
I'm concealed in crinkled and clumped sheets,
of a good night's rest.
Instead of hearing the noisy clock,
ticking away to wake me up,
I twisted tightly around in toasty tangled blankets.
Even though the pesky sun peeks in my window,
I smother my head in soft silky pillows.
While a distant call of my mother rings in my ears,
I lazily lay lovingly in loose close.
Despite the day,
trying to wake me of my bliss,
I remain in my santuary,
of peace and indolence.
This poem is about:
Me
Guide that inspired this poem:
Poetry Terms Demonstrated: