A poem a day for December, Poem 9

I can’t see the sunrise from here.
That’s the problem with this room.
It’s warm, comfortable
Has everything I need
but no sunrise.

As if I arrived at a parade
Just after the marching band
And missed the drum’s throb
That beats through my veins
and paces me to the day

How do millions of people do it –
Live every day
Heads down
In windowless buildings
and no sunrise?

What a sad existence.
But they may look at my life –
My neck craning each day for a glimpse
And pity my dependence
on a sunrise

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