Vim & Vigor

What would it be to wake
refreshed and ready to take
whatever the world could make?
What would it be to not groan and roll
like some bedclothes tangled, wild-haired troll;
what would it be to not hate the alarm?
Swat at it, punch it, swipe with your arm?
What would it be to have such vim and vigor,
to come rushing like a spring-wakened river?
I confess it, I’ll be the first to raise my hand,
I’m more of a ‘five-more-minutes’ kind of man.

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