It’s Monday morning at 7:01.

Monday apples and oranges

It’s Monday morning at 7:01.
You’re still half asleep; your homework’s half done.
Your shower is cold; your oatmeal’s dry.
Your mother forgets to kiss you good-bye.
You’re walking to school; it’s thirty degrees.
Your fingers won’t work; your toes and ears freeze.
Your zipper is stuck; your left sneaker squeaks.
Your backpack strap snaps; your soup thermos leaks.
You slip on school steps; you trip in the hall.
The toilet floods in the bathroom stall.
The gym door is locked; library’s the same.
The principal greets you by the wrong name.
Your classroom is hot; the coat rack is packed.
Your bean sprout is dead; your clay pot is cracked.
Your pencils are dull; the sharpener jams.
Your fingers get crunched when your desktop slams.
Your math partner’s gone; your neighbor is rude.
Your teacher’s again in a crabby mood.
The morning bell rings; it’s 8:01.
Come cozy up to the whiteboard,
Another school day has begun. 

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