It’s seven thirty, the alarm goes off,
The dream drifts slowly off, such a silly dream.
I reset the alarm for ten minutes from now.
At seven forty, the same tune again,
a Mozart sonata, jingle of the week,
a bit too sweet perhaps. I will pick another.
My grandad – he bred goats, pigs, and cows –
had to get up much earlier. I’ll be up in a minute.
Ah, the deadline! It passed yesterday.
Not good, but the report proved too hard.
I’ll be up right away. The start is always hardest.

It’s hardest to start and it’s so hard
to recall
the dream.

I’m up now but feeling dizzy.
Now I know what the dream was. I was sitting up late.
A thief came in the night and removed the door lock –
’twas made of butter. He’s entered the room.
Can’t see he face. I’m taking a shower.
The water’s too hot, ouch! OK, now it feels better.
He’s standing there, and then starts coming closer –
so very, very slowly – that’s the scary bit.
I’m watching him and feeling that I’m gonna scream.
The liquid soap is a brand-new series,
with mango flavour and the scent of energy...
Auto-suggestion? It might work this way.
He’s really close. I clutch the chair:
Don’t come near me, or I’ll throw it at you!
He disappears. I’ve won! He is gone,
only he left me a gift on the floor.
It was no thief, just a postman. They now work at night.
I look in the mirror. My hair is too long,
Must have it cut. What was in the parcel?
Can’t remember. Felt it was important
Or else it wasn’t. It is now past eight.
Breakfast. Quick. I’m gonna be late.
I’m always late. This is bad enough.
I’m gonna change my ways, honestly, tomorrow.
What was in that parcel? Sun shines through the window.
It feels nice, must admit. What was it? Oh, never mind.

It’s hardest to start and it’s so hard
to recall
the dream.