Ode to My Alarm Clock

To you, my cubiform little friend
I owe a world of thanks
Though all I send in your direction
On muddled mornings
Is dark muttering from between blanket
And sheet
And still your music serenades
My often unwilling ears each day
Undaunted by my searching fingers
Smacking “snooze”
Before recoiling into the tumble of pillows
Nine minutes of sweet silence
And then more cheery notes
Painfully upbeat
Terribly awake
Slicing through my fog of lethargy
And dragging me from the comfort
Of my bed
Where would I be without my faithful
Wake-up call?
Still asleep.