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.

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