How many mornings&;#063;

How many mornings, with one bleary head,
Have I opened my eyes to turn off the light,
Thinking that it was still the dead of night,
Only to turn the light switch on instead
Realising that sun can be just as bright
As the lamp that sits right next to my bed.

How many mornings, dreaming death and war,
Have I heard in my dead head, John Humphries
Sleep-teaching me the foreign policies
Of foreign countries, and the cricket score,
States of the world and its depravities,
As my radio alarm clock striked Four.

How many mornings, with sleep addled eyes,
Have I jumped out of my skin just to see
Some funny character sitting by me,
Sitting there, beckoning, steadfast and wise,
Torso of dressing gown, reality
Dawning as the character fades and dies.

How many mornings will it take me to
Get used to waking up from my light sleep
With the brain of a two-year-old, plunged deep
In fantasy: a wonderful child who
Can't comprehend the thoughts his mind can keep
Without power of speech to sort his thoughts through.