| |
Eyes and feet on remote control,
Coffee pot(aka 'missile silo') activated.
Activated? I spelled it right?
Roosters all crowing
Under fog-shrouded trees.
Coffee is HOT! Singed tongue...
But, I can't speak yet, anyway.
No sun today...rain on the way.
My house! A bold, new territory
To be discovered...
Every morning...
Damned elves!
They could at least make coffee
For me,
Before disappearing, once again...
Every morning!
But, I usually wake up by tripping
Over a sleeping dog
Who licks the coffee off her fur.
Ack!
Good, better, Morning to you!
elysabeth faslund
|
|
User Rating: |
|
10.0
/10
(1 votes) |
|
|
|
E-mail this poem to e friend