Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Apr 2020
I think it's Monday
it used to be Monday
I'm sure it's Monday
but it could be
a fried egg.

The cats have gone
the table's bare
the cards were marked
the dogs are going spare
and
they're selling me in antique shops
along the 'Lanes' of Brighton,

it's not fair
it used to be Monday.
John Edward Smallshaw
Written by
John Edward Smallshaw  67/Here and now
(67/Here and now)   
Please log in to view and add comments on poems