7 Days a Week

I dance by days

and give each a kiss,

for the days that I’ve lived

are sure to be missed.

Where time has gone sour

with minutes asleep,

redundant long days

I wish not to repeat.

So Monday passes

and Tuesday goes,

Wednesday feels strange,

Thursdays a blow.

Friday, Saturday,

both gone in a blink.

Sunday,

I rest and I sit and I think.

For my mind has gone mad,

and my heart has bled blue.

I sink into Mondays

that never feel new.

-M.R.