Waiting on the Word

I looked at the clock at seven
but didn't want to get up so soon
turned over and dreamt I was in a balloon

I looked at the clock at eight
was hid by a great tidal wave of guilt
about all the walls I've built

I looked at the clock at nine
surely the postman must be here before long
suddenly he appeared singing an old motorhead song

I looked at my watch at ten
maybe I could take a walk to the shops
catch those kids on their bikes doing bunny hops

I looked at my watch at eleven
the poem would be arriving in a minute or two
but the poem just didn't come through

I looked at my watch at twelve
thought I might as well put the dinner on
and whie it cooked I ate a warm cheese scone

I looked at my watch at one
thought about doing the washing up
anyone droping by would think I'm a right mucky pup

I looked at my watch at two
and then there was a knock at the door
a man delivering a carton I didn't have to sign for

I didn't look at my watch again till six
having spent the afternoon setting up my new bike
tomorrow's the first ride, and the new poem can take a hike

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