Sunday Night, Monday Morning Poem by Adrian Cox

I get in bed from rain I hide
under covers deep inside
where I like to be
where my bed and I seem to agree.
I'm tired, a physical state.

A humming in my ears
tells me I'm up too late.
Legs of jelly, feet like lead
I feel I am the living dead.

Around the midnight hour
a tapping on my window
from a midnight shower.
There's no one in the streets below
cold is now beginning to show
its winter time but I'm feeling warm
although I'm not on top form.
Manic Monday lies ahead
in the meantime
I savour this moment in bed.

I wake to hear traffic below
see outside falling snow.
I smell fried breakfast waiting to be
washed down with a mug of tea.
Its Monday morning lazy and still
I'll ring work tell them I'm ill!