The alarm rang for the last time;
He sprang
To stop its chime
And stumbled in the dark as he got dressed.
The lark
Sings morningsong; he’s not impressed:
He feels pressed like wine.
Under Pressure
31 Jan 2013 5 Comments
Poetry on adrenaline
31 Jan 2013 5 Comments
The alarm rang for the last time;
He sprang
To stop its chime
And stumbled in the dark as he got dressed.
The lark
Sings morningsong; he’s not impressed:
He feels pressed like wine.
Jan 31, 2013 @ 22:50:11
pressed like one, what an analogy! Super liked the whole piece
Jan 31, 2013 @ 22:50:50
typo error, pressed like wine.
Feb 03, 2013 @ 03:38:53
Thanks so much, Meenakshi! So glad you enjoyed it, and I thought you meant wine in your first comment
Feb 01, 2013 @ 14:20:38
Ease off the pressure for sure. Nice one
Feb 03, 2013 @ 03:40:07
I’ll certainly try! Most of it is self-imposed, I think.