
The sun is up too early,
It should have overslept;
My eyes under mutiny,
Refuses to open yet.
The sun is ever punctual,
If the clouds are not at hand;
Glowing like a rude master,
Goading all on the land.
Wake up! It yells with its rays,
Removing all speck of dark.
My mind revolts tyranny;
And abhors getting up to work.
I mildly listen to my mind,
And like the docile kind;
Get up and follow the orders,
And gently pull down the binds.
The helpless sun being shut out,
Fumes with its face all red.
I haplessly beg forgiveness,
And meekly return to bed.

Seems like an honest poem that many can relate to. I think the sun will forgive you for not waking up at dawn, or even noon, if that may be the case. 🙂
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I used to get up at 4:30 previously, now during Covid it’s 6 am. These are occasional indulgences during Sundays 7:30 at max. 😄
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Nice and sweet!
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Thank you so much Amrita. 😊💞💕🙏
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An eye opener- our sun.
It’s warmth makes the shut eye oblige to get up and get going.
An eye opener, your poem.
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Thank you Di for your beautiful and encouraging comment.
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