Four-thirty in the morning,
Thunder crashes over head.
Have to get ready for work,
But Sammy’s still in bed.
I’d like to be working in my lab,
Or on a beach with an outdoor bar.
I’d like to be most anywhere,
Than in this legal seminar…
10 – 12 hours each day at my job,
Just trying to stay inspired.
Hopefully, I’ll publish several more poems,
Before I am finally expired…
When I grow up, what should I be?
Fireman, doctor, scientist?
In all that time I never thought
That poet would be on my list.
Lazing about on a cool, crisp morn,
Gazing at skies of azure blue.
A cool breeze stirs and disturbs my dream,
I don’t want to go to work, would you?