Mourning Morning
The morning coming is inevitable
There’s no way around it
It’s completely unavoidable
The sound of the alarm clock
The repeated snoozes
The birdsongs outside mock
My furious desire to stay asleep
The morning comes far too early
Who told the sun to rise
At this obscene hour, so ungodly
The light coming through my window
The brightness hitting my eyes
To what foul being due I owe
My contempt, my tired eyes weep
The morning is a terrible affliction
No sane Woman would have designed
Such a cruel repeated perdition
Of nights far too short, days far too long
Knowing work is so hard, rest so fleeting
No evidence in the universe is as strong
That God must be a Man who doesn’t sleep
© Aurora Victoria WindDancer
May 16, 2018
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Words Dancing On The Wind 