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Life was out of coffee this morning.
It gave me juice and said it was good for me.
Life killed someone on the highway.
Stuck me in traffic for almost an hour,
and played my favorite song on the radio.
At work, life broke my pencil, made me wait at the copier,
delivered the wrong package and spilled soda on my shoe.
It apologized and handed me a napkin for that last one.
"Great job, I'm impressed," life bellowed.
"You've cobbled it together, and pulled it through.
Now stay late and wrap it up. Yep 'fraid so." But we'll make some coffee.
At home life left a light on
and a sandwich on the table though I wasn't hungry.
It gave me the soft pillow, and made shadows
on the ceiling from streetlights for me to stare at.
Then, life murmured goodnight,
wrapped me in a warm embrace,
and pressed its icy toes against my thigh.