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.