Weekends
When did it happen?
When did my weekends begin to merge?
They now seem on the verge
Of plunging me into endless
Melancholy
Mundanity
Morosity
I don’t know.
All I know is how I love my Mondays now
Even more my Tuesdays
They’ve given me new
Meanings
Meanderings
Musings
But
I struggle to make sense of all this
These dismal weekends
These driven weekdays
Why don’t they end?
This constant
Emptying and filling
Emptying and filling
Emptying
Filling
Like that hollow
Right through the old oak
Beyond the patio
Where I sit alone
As the light of day
Lengthens into eventide
Hollow
Vacant
Waiting
Like me
For the dark of night’s filling.
