by Nova Longhurst
2, 40 and 6.
2.40 is the time
It has been twelve hours since I left this bed
That is exactly half the day given to rest
With only 6 eggs in my fridge
I will have to at least eat scrambled eggs
Should it be a late breakfast, brunch?
Or is this meal now consigned to a mid-hour lunch
Or perhaps even equates to an early dinner,
Which is usually had at about 18:00 hours.
9 minutes past is usually when it reaches my mouth,
And 24 minutes later, again I am out like a light.
If only my body was as switched on as my mind.
I would have conquered Everest,
I would have swam the English Chanel.
Without those 6 eggs,
Preceded by 2 cups of coffee,
And chocolate toffee, I am an invalid.
We are at 19 lines of this 24 line poem.
And those 6 eggs still tempt me from my bed.
Hair all askew except 4 hairs, neatly curling ’round my ear.
A haircut is positively in order,
But with only 12 hours left in the day,
This line, 24 of those hours is surely over.