Friday, February 17, 2017

Pre Mid-Term Blues

Early morning darkness greets
The man who rises from his sheets
Before the dawn and quickly eats
A couple of spoons-full to beat
The dull fatigue that slowly cheats
Him of the youth within his cheeks
As hours turn to days to weeks
And gradually the thing he seeks
More than any other is sleep,
Enough to sooth if not defeat
The growing sense of his ennui
As day by day he feels less free
To be the man he wants to be
Or meet the faces he should meet,
And once again, on twilit street,
He fumbles reaching for his keys,
Locks himself from comfort, heat,
And goes to work, to die, to teach.