I wish I were a bumble bee,
Flitting amongst the flowers.
But Sammy is sleeping on my lap,
And I’ve been stuck here for hours.
I like to sleep late on weekends,
That’s my guilty little treat.
But every day at 5 AM,
Sam says, “Wake up! It’s time to eat!”
Watching the sunrise from my balcony,
Six A.M. on a Saturday morning.
The world is fresh, alive and new,
While Sammy sleeps, still snoring.
I like chicken,
I like beef.
Put some food,
Between my teef!
You won’t hear it in my voice,
Or see it in my expression.
Because I’ve learned to hide it when
I’ve been bitch-slapped by depression.