My Day In

                                        My Day In


                           I wake up to the sound of an alarm.
                               I hit the snooze and miss,
                        I carelessly throw my arm near the alarm,
                               And the bedside lamp falls.

                                    This is not my day.

                              It's 6 o'clock in the morning,
                            And I throw some casual clothes on.
                              I'm getting ready for school,
                                   I cough into my arm.

                                     I think I'm sick.

                               My mom checks my temperature,
                                 'One-hundred point three'.
                                      I hack up a lung,
                                     And go back to bed.

                                     This is not my day.

                                       When I wake up,
                            The comforter is snuggled around me,
                              Breakfast is on a tray table,
                                       Next to my bed.

                                   Things are looking up.

                                A warm cup of vanilla chai,
                                    Sets on the table.
                             A cold bowl of vanilla ice cream,
                                     Sets next to it.

                                  I think I like being sick.

                                     I sit up in my bed,
                                         Mom is gone.
                                       She left a note,
                                       "Be back later."

                              I sigh and sleep a little more.

                                     This day is boring,
                                   I'd rather be at school.
                                      Ignored at lunch,
                                   And bored in academics.

                                      I hate being sick.

                                     I'm feeling better,
                                      I go downstairs.
                                     I flick on the T.V.
                                            I sigh.

                                  Day time television sucks.

                                  Later my mom comes home,
                                   She brought me lunch.
                                     I refuse to eat,
                               The disgustingly greasy food.

                                  McDonald's is terrible.

                                 I make myself some soup,
                                   And sit in my room.
                             Bach plays over my little I-Home.
                                 I quietly read my book.

                                 I like peace and quiet.

                                   The doorbell rings.
                              My father is home from work,
                                He forgot his keys again.
                                    I shake my head.

                                I wish he could remember.

                               Tonight we're having Chinese,
                                   I eagerly oblige.
                                I set down my chopsticks,
                                And go to sleep some more.

                             Today wasn't so bad after  all.