I had been in a deep dream, searching for a lost puppy
When the clanging alarm startled me to reality
The clear images fading like a burning photograph
Then, a desperate sense of unrecoverable loss
Lying on a couch, the beacon clock, clicking my heartbeat
With no desire in facing the awaiting mundane day
My aching back, reminds me of a night of stooped typing
And my dry mouth, of the many vodka inspirations
Opening my eyes, the room is semi aglow with dawn
Turning, I meet the scrutinizing eyes of porcelain frogs
Sliding roughly to a difficult sitting arrangement
Reaching for a bottle of room temperature water
My tongue dampened, I lean back to remember the reason
Why did I need to be shaken from my unconscious state?
Work, yes, that essential means to maintain my existence
Would I be teaching high school mathematics, English, or science?
Rising to my feet and in route the coffee maker
Now noticing the radio playing in the milieu
Earthquake, fire, shootings, political scandal, and weather
The essentials for the complex human news equation
Leaning over a large bed, I kiss my sleeping wife's brow
Patting the dog’s head, continuing to the master’s bath
Later, while adjusting my suspenders, my wife reminds
Lunch is in the refrigerator, don’t forget the trash
On the short commute, through a cold northwest drizzling rain
I evaluate my current role as middle aged
Spending each day killing time, while crawling toward the finish
In my castle of souvenirs and faded memories
Mowing an endless lawn and shoveling tons of compost
The whisper of worry in my ears, about debt and health
Watching my wife grow old and pets slowly age until death
I laugh, at what seems like, the pure senselessness of it all
During my day, I continue to ponder while teaching
Looking into the young faces of my eager students
They are filled with the exciting beginning of new lives
Far from comprehending the classic middle aged crisis
In the evening, within the walls of my cozy cave
The television news professing the Armageddon
My loving wife sleeping off dinner in her recliner
I freshen my drink and am silently thankful for her
© Copyrights G. Jones 2008
The clear images fading like a burning photograph
Then, a desperate sense of unrecoverable loss
Lying on a couch, the beacon clock, clicking my heartbeat
With no desire in facing the awaiting mundane day
My aching back, reminds me of a night of stooped typing
And my dry mouth, of the many vodka inspirations
Opening my eyes, the room is semi aglow with dawn
Turning, I meet the scrutinizing eyes of porcelain frogs
Sliding roughly to a difficult sitting arrangement
Reaching for a bottle of room temperature water
My tongue dampened, I lean back to remember the reason
Why did I need to be shaken from my unconscious state?
Work, yes, that essential means to maintain my existence
Would I be teaching high school mathematics, English, or science?
Rising to my feet and in route the coffee maker
Now noticing the radio playing in the milieu
Earthquake, fire, shootings, political scandal, and weather
The essentials for the complex human news equation
Leaning over a large bed, I kiss my sleeping wife's brow
Patting the dog’s head, continuing to the master’s bath
Later, while adjusting my suspenders, my wife reminds
Lunch is in the refrigerator, don’t forget the trash
On the short commute, through a cold northwest drizzling rain
I evaluate my current role as middle aged
Spending each day killing time, while crawling toward the finish
In my castle of souvenirs and faded memories
Mowing an endless lawn and shoveling tons of compost
The whisper of worry in my ears, about debt and health
Watching my wife grow old and pets slowly age until death
I laugh, at what seems like, the pure senselessness of it all
During my day, I continue to ponder while teaching
Looking into the young faces of my eager students
They are filled with the exciting beginning of new lives
Far from comprehending the classic middle aged crisis
In the evening, within the walls of my cozy cave
The television news professing the Armageddon
My loving wife sleeping off dinner in her recliner
I freshen my drink and am silently thankful for her
© Copyrights G. Jones 2008
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