They speak of dead heading flowers, when their wonderful blooms are done.
This flowers' head is falling down.
Weighs heavy on her stalk.
She was sprung like a coiled spring.
Now no energy within.
Just one week back in the land of life.
The working girl is stretched.
Finds it hard to stay awake.
Not a spark behind her eyes.
Lost all incentive until Monday buzzes in.
Sleep will fertilize her flower.
Once again that flower will bloom
She is an under developed Fuchsia.
Cerise and purple, with  her buds shut tight.
As are the of her lids of her eyes nearly.
Hiding safe and secure, after which her new bloom shall appear.
(C) Livvi