There are seven days within each week

And folks may have their favorite,

But find a fan of Mondays,

And I’ll say that soul’s unfortunate.

For who could love a Monday

It’s the start of a work week.

The alarm is buzzing early,

Five more minutes do I seek.

Drink the coffee, get behind the wheel

Into traffic I do battle

As I follow others heading in

Like a guided herd of cattle.

Read the email, is it lunchtime yet?

This morning drags forever,

I check the clock – it’s 8:15,

Bang my head on the computer.

More meetings and assignments,

“Get these done A-S-A-P!”

How I long for a vacation

Or the weekend – hard to see.

Lunchtime’s here!  Just 30 minutes?

Why I’ve barely just sat down

And my boss taps on my shoulder

Another meeting’s just come ‘round.

“He said what?”  I’m barely listening

Yet another boring session.

I’m trying not to fall asleep,

Then someone asks me a question.

“What?  Of course, I’ll get right on it”

It’s the standard office lie.

Will my inbox ever empty?

Or the phone calls ever die?

I think I may have finished

Just a few stabs at “real” work

If I only had some silence

And some time from all these jerks.

As I point my auto homeward

Back into the traffic’s fray

I think of Scarlett and her prophetic words

“Tomorrow is another day.”

This is all your fault, dear Monday,

But I put up with this chore.

I can’t wait to see your cousin,

‘Cause its Fridays I adore.