Mornings are hard
It’s waking up and saying goodbye
to your bed,
your bolster and
your dreams (yes, imaginary boyfriend, I’m talking about you).
It’s facing up to the alarm that just won’t
the dread of day.
Your worries pile onto your toothbrush,
angst you show in hurried strokes
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Breakfast is a lonely affair
of rummaging in the fridge for something that doesn’t repulse you
or wolfing down SOMEthing-quick!
Your feet are already out the door,
the papers unread,
you mind elsewhere.
No one turns
to watch your mother
dancing in the driveway
as you shriek off
have to be like this.
The early bird catches the worm?
Well, I’m determined to collect them all.
Don’t undermine the decision made by
6.30? I’m up I’m up.
Kiss goodbye to Fabio or Franco or
whatever his name was.
He wasn’t that great anyway.
And FOLD YOUR BLANKET.
Go into the toilet and greet your smiling face.
That’s right, reeally get into it- RAWR!!!
You are gorgeous.
Now do a little dance-
one that would make your mother proud.
Is anyone supposed to be able to see that?
That’s right- really shake your booty!
You feel lighter as you prance down the stairs;
No one can take you seriously today,
least of all yourself.
Startle everyone with pecks on the cheek-
given in jest
Dance out of your mother’s grasp
as she tries to tickle you
I made my breakfast box yesterday
so that today
I eat like a King
(or Queen as the case may be)
My mother starts her day with the obituaries
and as is our ritual,
I shake my head and sigh.
We tut tut tut at the usual.
And now I am off,
not by force but by choice.
It is 5 to 7 and I am early.
I like being early.
I hum as I get into my car,
disturb my dog,
wave at my mum,
check that my sister is, indeed, in the next seat and
For everyone out there who struggles to get out of bed in the morning, may you find your own 'happy routine' soon!