Round and Round

At last I see the rising sun. At last the day has begun.

Away go the birds. Embraced by the sun's juvinile warmth as they seek out their first worm.

The darkened sky is now bright. The stars have cowered away at the sight of the sun's might.

The cock crows. And as I sit up on my bed I ask myself "What does the cock know?" So I sleep some more.

The phone glows. The alarm rings and I turn it off. "Why did I set it in the first place?" I get up and scoff.

I comb through the island of tees, pants and trunks. I see a shirt I haven't worn in a while, Boy am I in luck!

I slide in my crocs. I like to feel it grip on my feet so I guess I'll ditch the socks plus that's more laundry so I'd rather not.

I open the door. How I love the smell of freshly cut grass in the morning. I'll never get enough of it but cutting it is boring.

I go to the living room. I'm in the mood for buttered bread and spiced up tea. I don't know what they made so I guess we'll see.

The sun stares right on my dome. It's looking for my shadow but that brother gone.

I'm walking the streets. I could take a cab but I'm broke. In other words I would like to stretch out my feet.

I'm looking for something to drink. My lips are dry and chappy so I'll lick them slowly hoping that I seem flirty.

"Do I want the tiny Soda? Or maybe water, a cold one?" I'm rich with ideas but financially backed into a corner.

At last the sun is setting. At last the day has ended.

A crescent moon peers through the sun's dying embers. It was a nice day really, nothing crazy enough to remember.

A star now marks the sun's burial site. And written on the epitaph "He was a bright guy, He'll come back around. He'll be alright."

Quietly, the darkness creeps in and with it its many accomplises. They praise it for it's continous great fetes. Its cyclic accomplishments.

As the bats chirp and squeak along comes sounds that set me to sleep. As I stroll into my dreams, I pray that tomorrow I'd do the same thing.