Week/weak – THROUGH THE EYES OF A POET'S HEART

I.
Monday comes.
Wretched,
wicked
mess of morose,
a strong dose of reality.
A new week begins
draped in mundane banality.

II.
Tuesday’s child
is neither wild or mild,
she wears a slightly devious smile.
It supersedes her previous smile.

III.
Wednesday is a bump in the road,
a hump on a toad,
half the load of a full ride.
Tucked inside between
beginning and end.

IV.
Thursday.
Thor’s day.
Bring the hammer down.

V.
Friday Fish Fries
a Buffalo staple,
brought to the table
with slaw, and macaroni,
fries and a slice of rye.
Oh my!

VI.
Saturday’s a happy dance,
a chance to catch up
with things left hanging.
Banging away
in the workshop shed.
Peg board hooks and hangers,
Wallbanger is no stranger
than usual.

VII.
Sunday & I slip away,
no more work,
not much play.
Looking for just a quiet day,
not waiting for Godot,
no way!
A song of praise
for the past seven days.