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
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