The Mind's Culling Sky

Sour alarm clock

Battery’s nearly dead.

Wind rattling my windows

Time to get out of bed.

What kind of day

Could this possibly be,

When a storm roars outside

Waiting for me?

It’s all in my head

As I open my eyes,

Dreams can turn sour

While your battery dies.

But I get myself up,

And open the curtain.

The warm light tells me,

I make this day certain.