Something is missing from my little world
Time passes so swiftly it’s almost absurd
As soon as my first daily job has been done
I’m already late starting on the next one.
Oh when will this treadmill let me catch my breath?
I’ve been working so hard, though young, I feel like death.
When finally homeward I wearily tread
It’s hardly worth sleeping, much less going to bed.
For changing to nightgown, brushing hair and teeth,
Wastes such precious time that I get no relief
And scrambling through supper and other routine
Makes senseless my efforts to rest or keep clean.
Even on the weekends, my work’s never done
As between friends and fam’ly, my time’s not my own.
Before I am ready it’s Monday alas,
And the whole wretched cycle starts over apace.
week
The working week
Monday dawns despite our dread
Tuesday morning hurts our head
Wednesday’s interminable
Thursday’s boss is irritable
Friday afternoon goes slow
Knowing we have plans to go
Then Saturday we waste in shops
And Sundays fail to set our clocks.
Thus sleeping, shopping, steals “free” time
Without a reason, or a rhyme
Before we know, it’s gone and done
And once again, the week’s begun.
A Rude Awakening
I look to the East as the sunrise begins
With the pale glow that lights up the dark.
The stars slowly fade as the morning alarm
Tries to drown out the air of the lark.
I stretch with a yawn and feel five hours older
Though I may have passed them in sleep
And groan as my feet reach to meet the cold floor
When to my bed they rather would keep.
As I fill up the kettle and stand at the counter
My week-daily headache begins
And I curse the poor souls, who even before dawn
Have been sent out to empty the bins.
As the toast I smell charring and burning away,
I gaze at the clock ‘cross the room,
And noting the numbers that glow on the dial
I growl “Saturday” into the gloom.
Katherine Shirley 