A Very Long Week
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I hope you enjoy this story, Poetry Soup friends. Things are hectic for me right now, so I will add the music and picture later. I will be absent from Poetry Soup for a brief spell. Blessings.
Solomon was born in exuberant springtime, and it was on a Monday.
Proud parents were Gregory and Helen, when now became someday.
They dwelt back in the good old days, in a house not far from town;
But, near enough for work and fun. Like moon, when earth is around.
Solomon was christened at Church of Our Lady, one joyful Tuesday;
And he was three months old. It was a scenic month, of wild bouquet!
As he grew, Solomon was popular, like fiery sunset's fuchsia distress.
Butterflies and friends' kites floated, in admiral skies, of sweet success.
Familiarity bore beloved faces of family. They visited under tree fronds.
Having crossed the fields of afar. It was a leap year, of frogs in ponds!
Solomon lived in the house of silence and sound, full of joys of living;
Like shadows, dancing on the outskirts of sun, with hibiscuses, willing.
Pearl moon shone like a lazy searchlight, on the street of satin nights;
With golden, glistening, days of fascination, huge tree peonies in sight.
Neon supernovas enriched jet twilight, as neighbors sat on their porch,'
Ere nutmeg sun had fully gone down, at spicy dusk, carrying a torch.
'Voyage champagne' blooms floated away, on a sparkly sea of bubbly;
As 'black star' gladioli dazzled noon, and tiffany waves tossed roughly.
'Apricot beauties' came with rainbows, and 'birds eyes' had good views;
And 'winged everlastings' looked heavenly, like pink, clouds, on a cruise.
Solomon was a man of deep faith, knowing life's days tell a rich story;
Which will end on one destined, tearful day, only to begin again, in glory.
When he became a man, he made watches, in mellow days so frenzied.
He fell madly in love, and got married, one happy day. It was Wednesday!
He and Stella lived blissfully happy lives, like peach lilies, in gold sunshine.
Solomon lived to be very old, like planting grapes, and pouring the wine.
Sadly, sickness must visit us all, and one day Solomon became quite ill;
And it happened on tumultuous Thursday, when sheep grazed on the hill.
The next oblivious day, Solomon was worse, like remiss trouble, stalking;
And it so happens, that was a Friday, when varicolored leaves were falling.
When the variegated life cannot go on, there comes an expectant pause.
On silent Saturday, alas, Solomon died, as when darkest night, withdraws.
Solomon was buried on a Sunday. He'd known his story would soon end.
Like joys and raptures unceasing, and new sights, just around the bend!
'Solomon Grundy,
Born on a Monday,
Christened on Tuesday,
Married on Wednesday,
Took ill on Thursday,
Grew worse on Friday,
Died on Saturday,
Buried on Sunday.
That was the end,
Of Solomon Grundy.'
Copyright © Evelyn Judy Buehler | Year Posted 2025
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