To snooze, to sleep—
To sleep, perhaps too long. Ay, there’s the problem,
For in oversleeping what events may come about
When we are hiding from the alarm’s harsh call
Must make us stop and think.
That’s the idea
That makes disaster of sleeping in.
For who really wants to face the 6 a.m. sun,
The first period’s quiz,
The morning person’s obnoxious cheeriness,
The disappointment in decaffeinated coffee,
The dance class’s early rehearsals,
The overly chipper song of the early bird,
And the cold looks
That early-risers send in my late-sleeping direction,
When they too may sleep in
On weekends free from tribulations?
Who would heed the alarm’s early call,
To squint and yawn through the first hours of the day,
But that the horror that something may be missed while dozing,
The unknown events that have occurred which
The gossips discuss
While we stand in a confused daze,
Wishing we had risen on time
Instead of seeking those futile thirty minutes?
Thus the chance of missing out does make early risers of us all,
And thus the bliss of sleeping in
Is tainted by eye-opening thoughts of lost news,
And peaceful moments of dreams and sleep
With this regard their paths are cut short
And lose the dark in favor of the harsh light.