Why I hate the sun

The glowering morning arrives,
as the sun eats holes in my curtain.
I make a cave of pillows,
to no avail.  
 
Light, my unwelcome visitor,
dances on my eyelids.  
I turn my head seeking darkness,
but the sun is more stubborn.
 
Finally, I surrender to the inevitable.  
Though the house is cold,
the shower's warm water cascades over me.  
I hang my head under the clement stream.
 
I greet the day with a subversive smile,
determined to get even.  
But a hundred things call out for my attention,
until night returns and I embrace the darkness.