Sunday
Eight in the morning,
we are still in bed.
After the long day,
it feels like we’re dead.
Nine in the morning,
we both start to stir.
Sleep slowly fading,
the world’s still a blur.
Ten in the morning,
we both start talking,
not enough strength for
something like walking.
Eleven a.m.,
it is time to rise:
Get up out of bed,
rub sleep from our eyes.