Milk Float

my bedroom window ajar, 

sheets kicked off to the ankles, 

the push and pull 

of a battery powered milk cart  

threads through the silence,

sweet melodies from the 

jingle-jangle of milk bottles

and Corona fizzy drinks

awakens the dawn from its yawn,

there’s no movement in my house,

I’m still half dreaming of a joust

with the black knight

it’s a pointless fight, I never win

so, I retreat, focusing 

on excavating the sword of Excalibur 

from its conglomerate lock

upon its release the alarm clock

ruins my hero’s welcome