Form: Aubade
Shrill and sharp it vibrates
the table echoing the sound
‘wake up, wake up’
and the peace of sleep is shattered
while the remnants of a dream
fade into the pale light of dawn
‘wake up, wake up’
the ringing fills the air
like an unwanted conclusion
of a disappointing anti-climax
at the end of a movie
‘wake up, wake up’
the summoning is relentless
drawing me into the daze
of an unclear mind where thoughts
are incoherent and confused
and my sleep-dusted eyes look for my phone
‘wake up, wake up’
my eyes glance at the clock
that reads of an uncivilized time
where is that damned contraption
that interferes with my sleep
‘wake up, wake up’
how can it be ringing so early
as my hands grasp my phone
almost throttling this curse of my existence
as my finger swipes the screen
to ‘Good Morning Sir,
have you claimed PPI?’
©JG Farmer 2019
A Garret Poet 