It’s Moanday, and there wasn’t enough sleep time during the weekend, so this is a good time for a little poem I picked up along the way.
It sums up my feelings on the matter of morning quite precisely.
I Am Not a Morning Person!
-anonymous
Woke early one morning,
The earth lay cool and still,
When suddenly a tiny bird,
Perched on my window sill.
It sang a song so lovely,
So carefree and so gay,
That slowly all my troubles,
Began to slip away.
It sang of far off places,
Of laughter and of fun,
It seemed his very song,
Brought out the morning sun.
I pulled back the covers,
… crept slowly out of bed,
And gently shut the window,
And crushed his fucking head.
I am not a morning person
Nuf sed!
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