In my family,

That follows rules valiantly,

Morning hours are treated as sacred,

Over generations this tradition hasn’t faded.

But change is life’s norm,

That’s why I birthed a storm,

My darling angel despises mornings,

Finding it annoying & warring.

From refusing to budge,

Even when tempted with aroma of fresh fudge,

To waking cranky,

Doing things as she fancy.

The hustle,

The bustle,

The house is in panic,

I ‘m acting like a manic.

The argument ensues,

From brushing to finding shoes,

All prep goes waste,

I spend every moment in chafe.
The bitter aftertaste,

Inspired me to cultivate,
A plan with consensus,

Restoring peace at nexus.

I let go of my desire of order,

I chose to surrender,

She promised to abide,

When I granted her power to decide.

Showers were scheduled to evenings,

Mornings now had fewer offerings,

She was in control of the alarm,

I was hoping for the storm to calm.

With a hiccup here,

And a stumble there,

We stepped out of the nightmare,

Following rules fair & square.

I had my peace,

She was lazy in the sheets,

Still we made it on time,

With joy & smiles to chime.