詩 Sunset

Kind Hypnos does not tarry to my lonely bed
And 'ere again I lift my head
It is the dawn of Helios' commute

In one hand, whips impel his firey stallions hot
The other grips mocha lattè, double-shot
His chariot rises, blazing, equine nostrils flaring
Morning Drive Time Show over radio blaring

Unlike Apollo, I need no such libations
To stir me to my morning occupations
Bereft of comfort, I kick off warm skins
And shrouded in chill, the day begins

Diff'rent whips propel my solar compass
I must fill these hours of Apollo's flight
Until I face again that lonely couch
And lay down thereto when it again be night