Saddest Day of the Year

Third Monday of January 
some say it’s the year’s saddest day, 
windy weather and scattered snow
could hold into February.
Yet in bleak gloom, a bright hope glows
as I butter my breakfast toast
and open up your email post
to learn that your arrival’s nigh
truly raises my spirits high.
But looking round I realize
our house resembles porcine styes
to leave, as is, could jeopardize
our status matrimonial
which might become divorceial.
Floors must be washed and dishes too
sheets to change and laundry to do
fridge to clean, garbage to take out
change the washer on dripping tap.
At last all is done, without doubt 
I’ve escaped the wife’s away trap
Copyright © | Year Posted 2020

Poem

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