I love my large, soft, comfortable bed.

It gives me sound sleep through the long, dark night.

Every single day I’m filled with dread,

When my room is filled with the morning light.

I just hate it when I must start the day,

It’s an action that I cannot reverse.

I still need to get up, to my dismay,

Having to leave my warm bed is a curse.

I brush my teeth, wash, and put some cloth on,

And thus, another day has been started.

After 10 minutes, my breakfast is gone,

And I write this short sonnet, light-hearted.

At the end of the day, I am all spent.

To be in bed again, I am content.