Pules

To the rooster’s crow
A race begins
Off to conquer the world
In one day’s time

Out the door I go
Black brew in hand
Tapping my foot
To the world that does not wait

Streets are paved in gold
Leading every which way
Wish I had a compass
It would save the day

In the labyrinth of life
The beast lurks near
I must follow my heart
Carrying the torch of hope

Arriving moments to spare
Flying up the stairs
Entering in grand style
A task is now at hand

Second by second
Perpetual hands tick
To the swing of the pendulum
And the beating of the drum

The Old North Tower
Plays a joyful tune
And on the twelfth chime
I jump with joy

Weary eyes wonder
Yawning, a sigh of relief
Patting myself on the back
To a job well done

Laying my head softly down
Onto clouds of feathers
Dreaming of adventure to come
And waiting for the rooster’s crow