Everyday Is Such a Trudge
Monday, our hearts were hefty with dread.
Hoping postman fetches bucks for bread.
It will cape with the psyche's desires well.
Under a grasp, swirling, we felt the spell.
Tuesday would alter prompts the shame.
We may gaze at how they weave the tame.
Critics condemn this real issues speed.
A halcyon act can only atone for an evil deed.
Wednesday is a day of wait, wilt, and fade.
The days run crazy till buried and ruined.
The note on the front door says no more.
The homeless were not a packed store.
Thursday's rain taunts those who work gleefully.
Its fleeting pleasures continue to be costly.
Firms show their devotion to their service.
While sweat-soaked hands act as a safety device
The Friday treatment is just ephemeral.
The weekend issue covers the workday as well.
No fish, no dish, no lush gems, no taste.
A hoodlums exit is short and should haste.
Saturday dream topic is a sweet relief.
No one's ever won the lotto in alter his life.
From a mindset of misery to one of saving.
No quaint will be there by day's ending.
Bill payment and relax are served on Sunday.
Ignored and rigid to others, alike a decay
People accept forgiveness with confidence.
No apology or remorse for the appearance.
Daily facts involve stress, sorrow, and deceit.
All are outcomes that may arise in the present.
It is fundamental to have a daily routine.
As a particular version, no blooming is seen.
Written: August 1st, 2021
A Brian Strand Your Choice Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Brian Strand
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