This is a very short poem & probably makes no sense at all. But, I thought it up when I was half-asleep one early morning.
I'm wide awake at quarter past seven,
This could be hell, or my heaven.
Vicar, would you be a sinner?
There's well-earned cash, no matter who's a winner.
Roll the dice and move your pieces,
I never forget till this ceases.
I won't talk, because you won't understand,
The only person who can help, is holding someone else's hand.