Pressing Snooze
The mornings begin like a dream
but he keeps working
and finding the days are draining,
ticking on a hideous clock.
A lifetime ago
his mornings were loud
and he keeps looking back.
Searching for another five minutes
in her warm bed,
in those magical,
comfortable moments
before the alarm.
He keeps waking. All the time.
At work or watching TV.
Suddenly waking up,
every reflective moment he gets.
Now, he never remembers setting the alarm,
he presses snooze around seven times.
He eats breakfast in the same night
he ate dinner in.
He drifts from room to room.
Poetry by Blue River
Read 618 times
Written on 2009-02-19 at 12:47
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