Fifty-two Times Per Year

Mournday:
The day on which
we gather at work
to lament the Weekend Past.

Twistday makes us
shape-shift, sit at desks,
try to avoid our bosses,
slouch through staff meetings.

Winceday: Grit yer teeth,
struggle to the hump-top;
attempt to overcome inertia,
prepare to slide downhill.

Blursday almost always
leaves you asking,
“Wait a minute; what?
When the hell was that?”

Freeday: The first day
of another long weekend;
(play your cards right and
every weekend’s long!)

SaturdayndSunday:
no matter what you do
or fail to do, the weekend
proves that Time can fly.

—————[|||]—————
Poets And Storytellers United
Weekly Scribble #48
~ Blursday ~
———[||]———

14 thoughts on “Fifty-two Times Per Year

  1. Curiously when retired (as I am) there is a blurring of days as all days are equal opportunity then. But I do remember the wednesdays with life drifting midstream!

  2. Kinda makes you want to change it all to Blursweek, doesn’t it? Thanks for the smile, Ron. Heaven knows there are too few of them around these days.

  3. Oh Twistday, you devil you. Thankfully where I work now isn’t bad, and they were pretty good even before we went 100% virtual.

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