Tired

Tired, so Weary and Warn.
The bed is so warm.
Battered and Torn.

Beaten?
No, the week has just worn on.

Friday, yes it is.
I should be happy as the week is almost done.
Except now the real work begins.

Piles, so high must all find a place.
There’s so much to be done.

Pull the covers higher.
Snuggle down in my pillow.
Relax and doze.

Now, voices so loud.
In my head?
No the alarm has once again sounded,
Voices so shrill breaking the stillness.

Arise, from my cozy little nest, I must.
Time does not stop for tired or weary.