Some people wake to buzzers,
To ringing bells or beeping beeps,
They set their clocks the night before,
To wake them from their sleep.

Others wake to radios,
Or the news on their TV's,
Or music tapes on tape machines,
Or players with CD's.
I have no need for such devices,
For such sophisticated tools,
Nor do I even trust them,
And I'm not a simple fool.
My alarm requires no wires,
And it's not an hour-glass,
Nor is it made of plastic,
Wood or metal, glass or brass.

I see it well in my darkened room,
Though no lighted dial appears,
And it won't shut off on me,
If a midnight storm comes near.
It has four legs and whiskers,
It sits any place it pleases,
On my stomach or my derriere,
Or perhaps upon my knees-es.
My alarm is very vocal,
It comes with built-in sound,
I cannot shut it off,
Nor can I turn it down.
Some mornings it is much too loud,
I'd like to disconnect it,
I thrash about and kick a bit,
But none of that affects it.

I peek from 'neath my covers,
And there sitting on my chest,
Meeting me pupil to pupil,
Is my alarm clock, self-possessed.
If I so much as utter, "Shoo!"
Or dare to cry out, "Scat!"
Ear-splitting decibels are heard,
Coming from my cat.
My tired body can't sleep-in,
This alarm is quite insistent,
"Go 'way," I plead; she starts to knead,
Oh my, is she persistent.
King of the Hill!  Queen of the Pillow!
She claims her sovereign rights,
I weakly cringe, as I give in,
I am her slave; I cannot fight.

Alarm clocks come, and alarm clocks go,
They can be easily replaced,
Except, of course, the feline kind,
Which have nine lives by grace.
Virginia (Ginny) Ellis
Copyright January 2003