That’s as good an excuse as any I’ve heard.
Unfortunately, it’s not true.
Here’s what’s true:
Once upon a midnight, clearly,
head upon my pillow weary,
after sleep (an hour, soundly)
woke up with a startle.
A cat of twenty pounds was jumping
on my chest (my heart was thumping)
manic paws were kneading round
the hills upon my torso.
Stretched out flat, he started purring,
while his needle claws were stirring,
till I fled the grinding torture,
running to the bathroom
After cleaning bloodied tissue,
still I had a pressing issue,
Waiting for me on the bed,
he curled his fur beside me.
His head now covering my pillow
flying fur began to billow
into tender nostrils as I
writhed upon the blanket.
Fat White Dog’s tremendous sneezing,
while my tender skin was freezing,
rendered frantic needles tearing
as I’m loudly screaming.
Cat’s offended, dog is growling
at the human loudly howling,
three o’clock is barely here?
I cannot help but wonder.
Will I ever know how pleasing,
(or is it celestial teasing),
to consider sleeping longer
than three hundred minutes?
©Joelle (too tired to write decent poetry) LeGendre