Who Am I?
(answers on a postcard to the usual address)
I’m the first to the door and the first to see dawn,
I’m the first out of bed and the first to leave home.
With my clock upside down and my afternoon free,
It seems like a week between breakfast and tea.
I’m the first to scratch ice from the front of my car,
I’m the first noise you’ll hear while the skies still hold stars.
You’ll stir in your sleep and you’ll worry that it’s late,
I inwardly chuckle as I’m pleased you’re awake.
I’m the first in the car and the first on the road,
I’m the first down you’re path with my over weight load.
In your bed you will groan as you hear my loud knock,
The dismay you can’t hide at this stupid o’clock.
Stretched across your path silky strands of pure light.
They glisten and shine, woven safely at night.
Intricate and delicate, a silver chrome hue,
These stars of the daytime shimmer in the morning dew.
A tightrope for an insect, nature’s beautiful law,
But I’m on my mission to get to your door.
Nocturnal arachnids weaving their precious home,
The dawn brings my good self and their certain doom.
I’m the first to reach home when my day is done,
I’m the first to turn my back on the afternoon sun.
My biphasic life is both lonely and fun,
My days seem so long, yet blink and they’re gone.
I’m the first to awake around five to make tea,
I’m the first into bed around nine craving sleep.
My alarm set for four, my head dream filled by ten,
Leaving only six hours until I begin again.
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