What A Difference The Day Makes Poem by George Howard

By GeorgeHoward 07.2010

It was only two a.m., went to bed with a good intention.
I would wake up early with a head full of invention.
Turning off the alarm at seven, “Just ten minutes more! ”
At about nine thirty, I staggered through the lounge door.
“Tea! I think, and perhaps some golden toast”
“And while I’m waiting for the ping, I’ll stick in a roast! ”
Ten thirty now, as I finally sit down to write.
Turning on to ‘Word’ the page flashing white.
Panic sets in as the brain goes into stall.
“I know, promised to ring Nev, I’ll give him a call! ”
Eleven thirty now, “My word Nev sure can chat! ”
Oven buzzer going, “S'pose I’d better see to that! ”
Twelve bells now, “Better break for some lunch”
The letter box clatters, “The postman at a hunch”
Letters from the council, ‘How we spend your money’.
“What a pack of lies, you ain’t fooling me sonny! ”
Statement from the bank, “That’s quite a blow! ”
Manager says come and see me, “The old so and so! ”
“Two thirty already? My how time flies! ”
Now knocking at the door my daughter, a lovely surprise!
Five o’clock now, “Are you stopping for tea? ”
And as I bring in the roast, her face fills with glee.
Seven thirty now, as I open another bottle.
“No, they’re not bloodshot; it’s more of a mottle! ”
Ten thirty now, as I say my last goodbye.
“What a beautiful starry night”, as I look to the sky
Finishing off the Merlot, as I sit before the screen.
Plonking wildly at the keyboard, words that can’t be seen.
“Keyboard must be broken; I’ll turn it off for now! ”
Wake up at 10 a.m., wrong way round in bed, clueless how!
Sleeping on and off all day, waiting for the stillness.
Nothing to do with the wine must be some other illness!
Turning on the pewter, only a half past one.
“Love this wonderful quietness, always get loads done! ”