Sunday Morning

It’s Sunday morning bright and clear with no alarm I have to hear
No long commuting drive to fear that’s causing me to hurry.
No need to tie my ugly tie or lunch to grab as I dash by.
No business plans to satisfy about which I must worry.

I could go back to blissful sleep. I’ve no tight schedules I must keep
Or profits I must try to reap before the competition.
No staff to try to show the way nor fires to fight or minds to sway.
No bloody corporate games to play to safeguard my position.

To close my eyes again seemed right; no futile battles I must fight
Or bloody long reports to write or boss to whom to show ‘em
No reason I should leave my bed ……
….. So why’d I rush downstairs instead?
…… To catch these thoughts inside my head
….. And write this stupid poem!

This review was published in the prestigious Caribbean sailing magazine “All At Sea”.