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Rated: E · Poetry · Philosophy · #2209352
Matt has grand plans, but falls asleep for three days.
Matt vowed the new year would be grand;
on New Year’s Day he planned it all.
Much like a trip to Disneyland—
it was Matt's new year overhaul.

Yet January four appeared
with Matt Van Winkle still abed.
Three days asleep—Matt thought it weird
for sleeping sound much like the dead.

Oh woe is me, Matt did lament,
the leafy lawns now white with snow.
This is a time that I regret;
life is too short to waste it so

Grand plans upon the new year’s birth—
in all sincerity I mused.
My body buried in the Earth,
my waking at the dawn refused.

Three days in coma are no charm;
my eyelids weighted like I died.
No siren’s song, no five alarm
could rouse me from the slumber side.

Three days abiding pseudo death;
bereft of knowing, far from free.
From this blue world I lost my breath
that signaled life to let me be.

I am now resurrection Matt,
among the living despite strife.
On New Year’s Day my vow was that
I would sleep less and savor life.

28 Lines
Writer’s Cramp Winner
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