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.
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