Six In The Morning

2 min read

A poem about a moment I took interest in during my daily looking through the window ritual.

It was six in the morning,

No I didn’t spend my night sleeping,

The whole night I was reading,

The poems of Ariam Weldeab,

And None of my sisters was up.

I decided to open the window,

Yearning the refreshing cold morning blow,

The kind of scenery I needed for my soul to endow,  

The only time worth living in an eleventh floor,

Yes, I might enjoy a beautiful sight,

But mind you, my damned condo has no elevator on sight.

I kept staring at the sky for long,

And suddenly down were my eyes lingering,

Two men in black were running,

Their bald head shinning,

Ahh am just kidding,

My eyes don’t do a good job functioning,

I once spent an hour a wrong door knocking,

The Neighbour had her suspicions I was stealing,

Of course, I couldn’t spot the sweat of two bald mean jogging,

But I could clearly see their big belly jiggling,

Their doctor probably told them ‘’ start exercising,

Or else your blood pressure won't stop rising.’’

These old men were rather happy and laughing,

Their work out enjoying.

In midst of their elderly play,

A pregnant woman came on their way,

She was holding a tea thermos,

And a white plastic bag full of cupcakes,

Or maybe a Medley of breads, it doesn’t really matter.


She was looking sideways,

Searching a spot for her tea set to place.


This huge man bumped with her,

The hot tea splashing all over her,

And there, on the other side, was her daughter calling her,

With two elderly women holding her,

And shouting ''Oh God save her!''

They were on their way to praise their Egziabiher,

I presume the other woman was richer,

Judging from her big, black eyeglasses and how her  netela was covering her,

I got reminded, it's been long since my mouth uttered a single prayer,

And my phone rang, this damned moment destroyer.

Oh my God I shouted , nine pm the clock pointed,

I had a class that needed to be attended,

But not now, few hours have already passed,

Oh god am doomed,

My FM teacher will be delighted,

For his ass is the king of the wicked,

And desires nothing but for all of our papers to be filled,

with N.G,Not graded!!!!

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