BY THOMAS MHANDO
The alarm begins at half-past six,
A tiny tyrant full of tricks,
Determined to disturb my bliss.
I hit snooze with gentle care,
Then disappear beneath the air,
As though tomorrow will be there.
It rings again with greater force,
I silence it without remorse,
And change my life plan without discourse.
By eight I rise and check the time,
Then blame the clock for every crime,
While late excuses start to rhyme.
The alarm has done its honest part,
The failure came from my own heart—
But tomorrow morning, we restart.
thomas.mhando@gmail.com
