Oh, Monday.
Oooh, Monday.
Oooh, Moonday.
Oooh, Moanday.
You come and you slay me.
Sunday is not done,
Not gone with the setting sun,
But there you are once more
Scavenging at my door.
A beggar with a broken smile.
You promise to be for only a while,
But your 24-hours pass
As if the sands stuck in the hourglass.
Oh, Monday.
Oooh, Monday.
Oooh, Moonday.
Oooh, Moanday.
You come and you play me.
I fall for your tattered lines.
I hope ruthlessly for the sublime.
But, Moanday, you are there,
A rumbled love I no longer share.
You once held such promise,
But now you are always upon us.
Hanging low over the weekend,
Always about to offend.
Oh, Monday.
Ooh, oooh, sad Monday.
I go to bed and sigh
As I wave the weekend goodbye.
Ooh, oooh, Moonday.
Ooh, oooh, Moanday.
.
.
#davidebooker #Monday, poem #poetry #humor #september #photonotmine #092225 #2025
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