Monday To Friday

Monday to Friday On Mondays and Friday's I get coffee in bed So Monday to Sunday I make sure he's fed Coz he mopped and he shopped And he washed up stuff too He dusted and polished and cleaned out the loo From rubbish to hoover Blurred blue jobs and pink A cunning manoeuvre When food bin does stink No matter the gifts of his practical help There's still some of those days where he makes my heart yelp His temper, frustration can bring my mood down When doubting his loyalty it makes my heart frown Most days I feel grateful Only hours slightly hateful I must be annoying always talking of pain I wish I could show it as talking's in vein If only he felt it just to know for one day What it feels like inside me the invisible way The constant reminder that nags at my whole I have to survive it to conserve my soul