There I am, in my bed
All warm and snug & cosy
When at 5:15 it has to be said
My world is anything, but rosy.

The rhythmic pounding of your feet
Wakens me with a puzzled start
While I lay and wonder under my sheet
Does this person, even have a heart?

To work I know you have go
Truly, I applaud your clear work ethic
But give a thought, as I toss to and fro
I don’t find your noise, aesthetic.

(Jan)