and so it is Monday
and again this all begins.
the to and fro, the shuffle
the too busy for time to think.
moments lost forever
in the chasing after of things.
things we need not things we want
it’s a Monday kind of thing.
balance between work and words
and thoughts and the things I feel.
I find myself longing soberly
lost in the quiet of evening’s lure.
I stay up much later than I should
toying and playing with words.
trying to build up the reserve
to get me through each day.
I know full well there won’t be time
and usually not even a place.
Monday and her minions
are on me before I awake.
she is needy, this one, and demanding
her voice loud and sharp to hear.
she is in my ears and my consciousness
taking up all of the space.
she is pushing out things she doesn’t need
passion, emotion, dreams.
she is on her game this morning
and already has me on my knees.
begging for a simple quiet moment
a gentle break in my day.
where I can run off with my notebook
and ease this constant ache.
the ache that words must come
and they must simply be heard.
Monday is not the only one
who has something to say today.