“Stir yourself! Awake! Arise!
Blissful slumbers, fall away!
Cast old Nocturne from your eyes,
‘Tis the brink of glorious Day!”
This is what my Mother speaks,
And bakes the ham and cooks the egg,
And all the while, sounds like squeaks,
And all the while, I whine and beg:
“Five more minutes,” I reply,
And turn the covers sluggishly;
Thirty minutes pass me by,
‘Til stricken horror dawns on me.
“I’ve overslept!” I scream aloud,
“I’m an idiot! What a fool!”
And speak derision to an absent crowd,
As I throw on clothes and speed to school.
Running late, the countdown starts,
I bump the car between two trucks,
And begin to head toward liberal arts:
Across the building, just my luck.
“I’m late!” I say unto the air;
I feel so late, so rushed, I run,
Like chased out of a monster’s lair,
The first bell rings, and class’s begun.
My eyes wince, knowing, seeing, showing,
As the first bell pierces me,
That I really, truly, am going,
To be in trouble, yes I’m gonna be.
And then I wake up in my bed,
Alarm is blaring buzzsaw tunes,
Humming in my delicate head;
It’s Saturday, and half-past noon.