I'm busy doing nothing

“Well what on earth!” I jerk awake.

My bedside clock rings, such mayhem.

“I need to sleep, for pity’s sake,

the time is only nine a.m.!”

 

I punch it hard, that stops its noise,

I sink back on my comfy bed.

Each morn’s alarm call so annoys,

they throb within my drowsy head.

 

Should I arise and face the day,

or sneak another forty winks?

My pillow whispers, “why not stay?

Responsibility just stinks!”

 

That blandishment I can’t resist,

I pull the bedsheets to my chin.

My presence downstairs won’t be missed,

such self-indulgence is no sin.

 

Today I have to sweep and clean,

do the shopping, cook some food.

That’s all beneath me, petty, mean,

procrastination feels so good.

 

I’ll put it off till next day dawns,

when motivation may revive.

I stifle one of many yawns,

to nap again I will contrive.

 

I nestle down and close my eyes,

drifting into Morpheus’ arms.

Once more I gladly recognise,

doing nothing has its charms.

 

Aaaaah! Zzzzz.