The Day

The sun creeps through the window,
nudging my head, lifting my eyelids,
and stares at me... "wake up."
I roll over on my uncomfortable bed,
which springs me upright to gaze at the wall,
whiter than Antarctic snow, reflecting
the rays of the sun into my already pounding head.
My body feels feeble, lethargic and heavy.
I skip breakfast, because I fail to see the point,
and trudge myself to work, arms akimbo for eight hours,
blankly watching my colleagues and employees,
smiles across their faces, laughs filling the air,
and I feel colder than I did when the sun
rudely crashed its way into my room... "wake up."
I refuse to forgive the sun for that.
Once the clock hands form their joyous vogue,
One on the twelve and the other on the five,
I set a world record in hundred meter hurdles,
leaping people and parked vehicles until I am behind the wheel.
Then I set another world record in waiting;
the traffic, stopped on the highway,
as if there were a broken traffic light stuck on red,
horns freely sounding like a world cup football match,
and air stale, because why would my air conditioner work?
The sun breaks through the windshield... "wake up."
I hate you sun.  Are you going to sleep yet?
The road, like quicksand, steals my time,
and the radio sounds more like nagging than music.
While I pull up, breaks screech at my driveway,
I trip towards the front door, which does not unlock,
frantically pounding to crash through the wood
that stands firmly between me and my comfort.
Finally it becomes ajar and I tackle through
like an NFL linebacker to the inside.
Protected by the roof and blinds, the sun no longer
has nay power against me as I slide into bed
and I lie in his arms...
and it is the best day ever.

Barbed Wire

There is a barbed wire fence around my home,
It is not necessary, but it still stands there,
pointed and vigilant like a night watchman,
waiting for company that it can quickly deny access.

It has stood for years now, in the desolate town I live,
No neighbor has questioned its existence,
But instead accepted its silver wrapped coils
And allowed me to lie in the middle, watching out the window.

Through windy weather it rattles, like an old wooden shutter,
Smacking against a house in a twister,
Yet it has never fallen, and continues its duty
Protecting a home that needs not protection.

But when there is no cloud in the sky, it stands there,
shimmering in the rays of the sun,
lonely without enemies to jab mercilessly,
it is not tall nor proud, but rather droops back to my house.

The barbed wire fence hugs my home tightly,
It strangles the paneling, caressing the molding lumber,
It smiles as it shakes my hand to greet me,
Leaving it bleeding red, dripping down the sides.