I'm bloody knackered, late night, no lie-in
Alarm set for 8:30, work calling
Had crumpets with Nance, we walked into town
Somehow worked til 5:30, finishing
Some draft guidance. Home. Shaved, then ironing
I cooked, and now this sonnet. Next, I'll watch
A film, Pitch Perfect. It's entertaining
I hope, or else I may before long catch
My eyes closing, plot-losing, which is such
A frustrating waste of time. I'll begin
Shortly, then hopefully there's no staying
Up late for me tonight. There'll be no scratch
Of pen on paper. Don't feel like struggling
To do creative stuff, no, no writing!
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