If Monday were a poem
it would be short and terse
Disorganised and cluttered
not a friendly little verse

If Tuesday were a poem
much better it would fare
Over the words that went within
I'd be inclined to care

If Wednesday were a poem
it would be full of hope
the week is halfway over and
we climb back down the rope

If Thursday were a poem
looking forward it would be
dreaming of the weekend
and the joys that it will see

If Friday were a poem
t'would be happy, bright and gay
for work is finally over
and now its time to play

If Saturday was poetry
as frequently it is
Then I would sit alone and write
A poem such as this

But Sundays where this poem
comes to a natural end
For tomorrow will be Monday
and it will start again.