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This poem started out as a creative writing assignment. It's about getting out of bed. |
| Campaigning Out of Bed Five minutes more extends to thirty Negotiating with time leads to unfavorable chimes If I snooze half an hour I lose my morning misty shower. My ovine sheath along with my silkworm helm is my defense against the blitzing winds of garuda—The howls of fenrir breach my snow-bombarded bay windows, on this red winter day. But defense alone does not win wars— I ought to unsheathe myself. I toss my quilted scabbard aside, and it murmurs, fold me, please. Five more minutes. |