Today’s prompt:  For today’s prompt, I want you to write a poem about either a specific routine or routines in general. Maybe something related to taking out the trash each week or washing the dishes every night–or something more bizarre (yet still a routine).

Bah.  I need a break, but I’m committed to this challenge.  It feels like I’m just putting up dreck at this point, rather than good poetry.  It doesn’t seem right, to keep posting unfinished and completely unpolished words.  Maybe a good night’s sleep will help?

.

The Morning Routine

.

The bed shifts and

a soft wet tongue licks my elbow.

I ignore, and there is a thoughtful pause.

The bed shifts again

so a cold nose can poke my cheek.

I grunt something about “too early”,

which is rejected by my bed-mate.

A front paw lands on my bladder:

bounce-bounce-bounce.

I crack one eye open

to peer at the alarm clock.

It is exactly the time that

we did this yesterday.

There must be a timepiece

inside my dog.

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