Wrong side of something
A bed has sides, for to
wake up on the wrong side of
my clock is alarmed, as am I,
amnesia of sleep trickery wins the day
my breakfast in bed is missing
in action, feared dead
my coffee is black, deserted
by milk, awol – again
my toast is burnt – a consequence of stubborn
refusal to budge
my dog is late for the great outdoors,
the kids are late for the bus
and I am too late,
she cried, as she waved her wooden leg.
__________________________
Gabe Feathers McGee 
Note: a repost
Nuddernote: the expression ‘too late she cried as she waved her wooden leg’ was one my mother used on a regular basis – not sure where it originates from but might be from a stage show in the forties or fifties.
Love this one – it’s like an Escher painting 😀 (I may have said that before…)
Thankyou – the benefit of a poem like this is you can make mistakes and no-one would know it’s not part of the poem – hahahahaha – hope you are well bb 🙂
Hmm…I thought that phrase was from an old folk song…but not for sure.
It might be so Charles – I wish I could find out.