Irked by inaction

The soft reaches of my sofa,

It held me close

And the luxury of laziness smothered me

In warm embraces and flushes of sweet reverie

I enjoyed the bliss of restfulness 

Of having to do nothing and sinking into sleep

But a while later I tossed and turned 

The grumpy old clock stared round at me 

Twitching her needles and telling me it's time

It's time crooned the cuckoo bird

It's time giggled a blushing dawn

I parted away from my fling with indolence

Away from the kiss of comfort,

From the freedom of inaction that set me in a trance

I woke, to a better freedom 

Which let me flex my muscles and dart around daintily 

Which made me a small God as I bequeathed life onto creative creations I called my own

It was time,
To open myself to a day prone to problems

Ones that might tear asunder my peace and sanctity 

For its then alone that I shall come home a warrior, vested with her marks of valour.