“MoAnday”

MoAnday

It’s that dreaded day again,

The one that follows what should have been,

The day that’s missing an A,

They day that should be MoAnday.

I want to wrap myself in paper towels

To avoid the thunderous scowls,

The rain of terror, “aren’t you done yet!”

As I sit on the coffee pot and try to forget.

Oh, where art thou my pride?

Oh, this Moanday I can’t abide.

Oh, you’re hiding in the paper towels, too?

What, now, am I supposed to do?

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#020623

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Filed under 2023, humor, poem, poetry, poetry by author, Poetry by David E. Booker, writing humor

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