A Poem About Mondays
You’re the spilt coffee of mornings
The caterwaul in the dawning
The burst tyre on my car
The friend who is too far
The gum glued to my hair
The reminder of despair
The cut of the knife;
The mundanity of life
Bills to pay
You’re here to stay.
Time swirls like a hair down the drain
We only have ourselves to blame
A Monday tells a tale
Either flourishing or stale;
If you welcome the day with open arms
You’ve caught the elixir to pursue your charms
For the rest of us, Monday pervades
Inspiration rapidly fades.
I’m dreaming of a Monday soon,
One where I can whistle a different tune.