She did not put the coffee on until twelve past twelve.
She ‘got up’ at half seven, but the a.m. sprinklers
Churned themselves from their subterranean domain
They sounded like hard rain.
Her hair was in a state.
She did not get that kettle she kept intending.
One cup at a time. Sensible.
And she liked the noise.
She wrote she five times about herself.
Time to take to toes.