stagger steps of the new days ragged work sheet

teeter-totter from newish to oldish

pick at the hours of wee
tick-tock-tick-tock
rubs sandy buzz-drowsy eyes
where does the sleep (and why) does it flee

i'd heard of folks of old
youth bartered drank away danced sold
tell me of nights and aches and scrapes
tossed and turned to fraggy strains of lawence welk
(methought it always sour grapes)

old man staggers by heard by me (the small boy)
trudge through thin-bare boxers to the head to pee
now the flashing 4:45 of my own it glares
the drumhead of my own sleep in the distance I see