There’s something wrong with my alarm’s snooze,
It had worked so well so early I thought I couldn’t lose,
But now it’s crying out all night long, every hour,
Turning my mood, my thoughts, my day somewhat sour,
But I won’t let the misfiring alarm ruin my day, I refuse.
It used to go off every morning as scheduled,
Though what it’s doing now is normal, so I’ve been told,
I miss those days of 7, 8, 9 hours uninterrupted,
The hours of the nights passed like they had been scripted,
Who knew those original nights were good as gold.
So if my poem is a little off, beat and kilter,
Please forgive me, with lack of sleep, I have no filter,
To pick out the words and phrases, cadence and timing,
To come up with the best bit of perfectly sculpted rhyming,
To dazzle with my humorous wit, my mind is all a tilt-er.
Just a few more hours, my darling, sweet alarm,
If I ask with all my honesty, guile and charm,
Would you see fit to let me sleep awhile longer,
And then be able to meet the day that much stronger,
Or must you keep playing the role of rooster on the farm?
The alarm goes off again, as it must, as is its way,
I rise, I stumble, I fall, I don’t have any words left to say,
Changing, rocking, singing, cuddling, over and over,
Crying, screaming, fidgeting, squirming, teething moreover,
It could in fact, end up being a very, very long day.