In Sleep a King, But Waking No Such Matter

Shakespeare, sonnet 87

Any morning and its face in the mirror
And the way the unexplainable stares back at you

Any morning as someone stands on their head
Because the legs need the rest though the day
Has only just now decided to put on its pants

Any morning with its early risers
And the birds like jesters who will not shut up
Though motley is nowhere to be found
And the daughters do not attack the father

Any morning with its corny promise
And the mirrors that have stopped working
And the unexplainable that needs coffee
And the birds like jesters who have something to say
And the king who never wanted to be king