GloPoWriMo: Day 4 4/2 = 2 Poems

Every time I open,
That rectangle little screen,
I am reminded,
That I live with art.

A photographer had taken it,
In the early hours,
And because I sleep late,
I never see that hour.

I have that piece of art,
On my mobile phone screen,
In the hope that it will,
Awaken me from an early morning dream.

Every day I wake up,
With the artists naughty touch,
He pushes me to stay up,
When I just want to crouch.

He pulls at my shirt,
Pokes me in the nose,
And if I'm still not up,
Shouts in alien prose.

I wake up giving up,
Any hope of sleep,
He smiles at me cutely,
To say, How dare I sleep?