Morning crept through
curtains partly drawn
Grey and woolly,
Damp of thought
No urge to rise
To greet a day
that surely would
come to naught

Not first light though
For early hours
Had seen much brighter
With Whispered words
A softly closing door
The cabmans charge
Delivered from afar
Remembered in the afterwards of sleep

Now urgency
The need to rise
and greet
the sullen skies
For time has ticked
the Computer waits
For no man, and everyman
For the working day begins

Martin Addison, 09/10/2012

A406 North Circular Road