I’m torn from dream-scape with a startle
By a resonating crashing sound
For a moment there is quiet
Then clanging takes another round
I throw the covers to the side
As out of bed I quickly climb
Then let the sounds of ruckus lead me
To the current scene of crime
I feel like screaming bloody murder
And I am royally pissed off
At whoever dares to wake me
And snort obnoxiously and scoff
I throw the kitchen doors open
Then storm in and shout
“What's with raising the hell?!
What is that all about?!”
You freeze right there mid-motion
With dear-in-the-headlights eyes
You lift a lopsided birthday cake
And giggle nervously “Surprise..?”
Surprise
© Copyright: Марина Фордвэкс, 2012
Свидетельство о публикации №112010700757
Свидетельство о публикации №112010700757
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