Rattlegrating wheelets of the holiday bound,
Monotonous cooing of pigeons in the eaves,
Hill-gearing reveille of a diesel ghost bus.
Curtain run swish of the earliest ones,
Hated clapping of the wake up machine,
The rolling modality of bed locomotion,
And spreadeagle into diagonal torpor.
Return the postman to sender unread.
Not awake at this address for Witnesses,
Adventists, Latter Day Saints or salesmen.
Strip off, fall back, try to catch the last dream.
--
Stephen Moran
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