Mornings

Abruptly awoken, The sky is pure golden,

My mother has spoken, and no one is scolding,

“Rise and shine, It’s approaching time!”

Now I just awake to the dreary chime…

 

Alone in the morning, there was no warning,

Merely the horning and fallacious “informing”.

Oh, the times I ascended at nine,

It was divine, I shouldn't've whined.

 

This poem is about: 
Me
My family
Poetry Terms Demonstrated: 

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