The I Hate Mondays Shirt

“I hate Mondays,” yes, I surely do, I say aloud while folding up that shirt which, with some other tops, I'm giving to the Goodwill store along with an old skirt. I think about last weekend and how fast it went. How wonderful it was to lie around the house! Too bad it never lasts. To work I go and hope the hours will fly. Weeks pass. The “I hate Monday” shirt now goes to Africa where jeans and shirts and shoes are given to the poor. Among the clothes, my shirt is one a little boy will choose. He walks a long way, then in dirt he works each day so he can eat. Nobody pays him money; he knows nothing about perks or weekends. With his friends he rarely plays. Beneath that shirt whose words he cannot read his tummy growls, while I , so far away across an ocean, grumble how I need a break, and how I hate to wake on Monday! Based on Picture #1 Written April 8,2016 for the Images that make you think Poetry Contest of S.O.