When the light of morning begins its sweep,
my alarm begins its ceaseless beep
and I leave my bed in a stumbling creep.
With only four scant hours of sleep,
the wall of morning seems rough and steep.
There’s an appointment I must keep.
The dogs who have not made a peep
now howl and bark and moan and weep
as they hear me digging deep
into the harvest they hope to reap.
Their kibble now I scoop and heap
into their bowls. They twist and leap.
As the light of morning ends its creep,
Its rays fall long and harsh and steep,
and they cease to howl and weep.
As they graze their bowls like starving sheep,
it’s now their jaws that twist and leap.
But the price of feeding is not cheap,
as our appointment once more we keep;
for I’ve had merely four hours sleep.