Two hours in my waking day,
I drink my second cup of joe;
my synapses fire slowly -
with still a ways to go.

The darkness yet prevails,
no rosy fingers seen;
only quiet in this house,
a tranquil, ghostly scene.

A single light's enough,
to brighten up the room;
to scatter blackness nil,
to rid the morning's gloom.

A shower's in my mind,
not too hot and not to cold,
to freshen up the body,
for the day that's to enfold.

A rhyme to start the engine,
the sparkplugs of the mind;
to get the juices flowing,
for the coming daily grind.