An alarm of muse,
Dragging my bleary self up,
Forced to live and rise.
An odd occurrence,
A specialty occasion,
For just this one time.
Busy means no breaks,
No options to sleep in late-
Wish I could sometimes...
These places to be,
Vying for my attentions,
At all times of day.
YOU ARE READING
Ups and Downs, Lefts and Rights
PoetrySome of my old English, and maybe a touch of new. Meant for those who aren't afraid to walk again amongst their overgrown trails. Always a work in progress.
