Mornings Are My Adversary Poem by Kevin Patrick

Mornings are my adversary
their obtrusively obnoxious, opportunist
they creep their rays, uninvited
and unannounced
like ebullient maids, going above their pay
to rinse out all the creased in shadows
on your sleep swollen face
never asking, or bother to consider
if you want a little respite
against the zestful sun
and all its pumped-up progenitures
of the variables of day
born irritants
their to giddy for their own good
how dare it bustles in
and conscripts
you with joie de vivre
it forces you to put your shoes on
and enter the unknown future
when all you want to do
is have a 41 wink
to let you think about it
worse its like a hangover
when your sober
stinging kisses
that never grows older
If I could hang the morning
I would put a curtain around it
but I cant
so I do the next worse thing
and get up to meet it.

that's the only real way
to face down the morning