I wrote the poem "Best Time Of The Day" also in the early 1980's. Even though this poem was written in the dark time of my life, it was a lighter poem written to portray the struggle someone who is in a deep depression has to get up every morning to face yet another day.
Best Time Of The Day
Serenely I drift along
upon a silver cloud;
the sky a soft baby blue,
a mist creating a shroud.
A subtle rainbow stretches
across the skies so blue;
purple, gray, green and gold
. . . blue and yellow too.
A world of such beauty
that I cannot hope to describe
the way this vision captures me,
or the way I feel inside.
But into my world intrudes
a jarring noise that I abhor,
yet I know that somewhere,
I’ve heard this noise before.
Bee . . . bee, bee . . . bee,
the noise keeps jabbing me.
Slowly I come around
and open one eye to see.
The alarm clock that faces me
in bold numbers of blinding red,
is there to constantly remind me,
it’s time to get out of bed.
My eyes are starting to focus,
and the clock reads that its 5:00.
The noise keeps insisting
that it’s time to come alive.
Well I’m no fool
for I know just what to do,
I’ll hit the snooze on the alarm,
and return to skies of blue.
But then the agonizing fact
becomes clear all too fast,
I’ve hit the snooze a time or two,
and this one was my last.
"Morning is the best time of the day”,
or so I’ve heard it said.
Perhaps I would agree
if I could just get out of bed!
Copyright 2010
Marilyn Warren
