Through the window, sun is peeping
On the people gently sleeping.
Alarm clocks, phones and other means
Abruptly shatter crazy dreams.
Rising from their comfy beds,
They wipe their eyes and shake their heads.
Inserting keys into their backs,
They wind them up with clicks and clacks.

Doing this first thing every morning
Seems to help stop all their yawning.
Winding til they reach the stop
And off to school or work they hop.
Some fail to wind up all the way
And have to struggle through the day.
Others wind them way too tight:
Fly through the day and half the night.

Fewer still have broken keys:
That is what we call disease.
A sorry few, their keys have lost
As they will find out to their cost.
They scarcely make it out of bed,
Their hearts now filled with fear and dread.
Makers of these keys are few,
So please guard yours with the care that’s due!

Stephen Tomkins
10 February 2015