I sit down to my shreaded wheat
drenched in skimmed milk, ice cold.
Morning routine never misses a beat
newspaper turned neatly with a fold,
Smoothing down my 'crazy' work tie
to avoid falling lumps of cereal flakes.
I let out a long, 'so, this is my life' sigh,
on the radiator todays y-fronts bakes.
Hot tea, sloshed down by huge gulps,
mouthfuls of toast, drowning in butter.
Interupted by loud heartburn burps,
opening delivered bills with a mutter.