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Six AM shouts the alarm
A quick look on my left
She’s still snoring,
The mother of my children
With her face pack and her silk pijama
I leap out of the four-poster bed
And land up into my slippers
Into the over-fit kitchen
I swallow two fresh eggs
And a pint of milk
My Nike sweater on, my Reeboks tied
I rush outside my high-standing flat
And bolt its iron-door
I live on the twentieth floor
I’m walking with myself
On the rocky path to success
I’m striving for this glorious day
When the city will be mine
Half past six stirs my pulses
As I dash down the 400 steps
At the foot of my sky-scraper
There’s a stall full of business papers
In the lift up to my place
Way down is sport but up is madness
I often meet this fellow
Stinking of vodka and unconcern
I like a cold shower after jogging
I brush my teeth and have a shave
Suit and tie, I drink my coffee
The Stock Exchange
Is my favourite matter
Two PM squeaks my diver’s watch
A peep-stroll on my level
It’s an empire I have to rule
For I’m the one to be respected
I know how to make myself feared
I sit in my leather armchair
I put my feet on my desk
My secretary’s dumb
But she gives me a canoe
In my front pocket
I’ll see her at four outside the city
I know she’ll be impressed
By my crocodile shoes
Ten PM cries my better half
As I step out of my yellow sportcar
I grin, knowing it’ll die down
As usual somehow or other
After all, I bought her this flower-shop
And her psychiatrist
Costs me an arm and a leg
But she’s a good wife
The meal is ready
And a good mother,
The kids are in bed
I sit on the sofa
And watch some X-movies.
Philippe Bailly
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Ajouter votre avis six am philippe bailly i leap out of the four-poster bedsix am philippe bailly i leap out of the four-poster bed
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