Early in the morning,
at 4 a.m., what do all men do?
One is sleeping
with spittle spilling from his mouth’s corner.
Another is lying in bed;
the thoughts of that woman
ravaging his brain cells.
One, like salt in water,
is lost in his lover’s embrace.
Another just lays,
staring at the clouds on his ceiling,
his mind totally blank.
One, a chef,
cooks in the kitchen.
Another busy rumpling his bedsheets,
making the silk fabric cry,
with that strange woman.
One, a businessman,
ponders on his business.
He thinks of firing Mr. Smith.
Another, an employee,
thinks about his dreams.
He thinks of resigning from Mr. Stew’s company.
One is up already,
watching the news;
120 people just died in an earthquake.
Another is out of bed too,
he’s praying for peace in the world.
One, a hunter,
is heading into the woods.
Another, a farmer,
is coming back from his farm.
One, a policeman,
apprehends a burglar.
Another is successful with his operation,
he carts away all the jewellery he finds.
One, a student,
studies hard for his exam.
The last man
has his pen dancing on paper.
He’s writing words;
these words.
Early in the morning,
at 4 a.m.;
at 4 a.m…
Entertaining. A poem is definitely better when it tells us stories