"mondays" poems - Hello Poetry

Every day is the same; they wake up in the same bed, at the same ungodly hour, to the same monotonous ringing from the alarm clock. They grumble their ‘good morning’s; whether they believe it is or not, rolling out of opposite sides of the duvet. They dance around each other in the bathroom, the heat of the shower creating a fog through which neither of them can see; causing him to stub his toe on the toilet or the counter, and steaming up the mirror so she can’t apply her make-up. They continue their ritual into the kitchen; flicking on the kettle, popping in the bread, pouring the orange juice; stirring the tea, catching the toast and spreading the butter and jam. Crunching and slurping together at the table, mumbling about what their days have in store; tapping texts on their phones, crinkling newspaper in their hands. They peck each other a kiss goodbye and mutter a ‘see you later’ before going their separate ways. But then Monday comes... Mondays are different. He knows she doesn’t like Monday mornings. It’s the very beginning of a new, long, tiring week. She never looks forward to Mondays. So he changes that. He sets the alarm on his watch a little earlier than other days; shutting it off before it can wake her. He slips silently out of bed and tiptoes quietly into the bathroom to shower; leaving her smiley faces and love messages on the steamy mirrors. He creates her favourite tea and makes her toast with raspberry jam; just the way she likes it. Picking a flower from the garden; whichever one looks the happiest and brightest, he places it all on a tray and pads back up to the bedroom to wake her. She no longer sets her alarm on Mondays. She knows he’ll not let her oversleep. He places the flower in her hair and drops delicate kisses; full of his love and affection for her, to the corner of her mouth, until she stirs gently. She smiles on Monday mornings. They eat breakfast in bed, covering the sheets in crumbs and giggling contentedly as the cat licks them up. She hums in the bathroom while he clears away crockery, and always re-emerges with the flower tucked behind her ear. It remains there ‘til night fall. They never once look at their phones or the paper, far too focused on each other to pay anything else mind. Their kiss as they part reminds them of their love for each other and of the good things in life; like strolls along the shore, strawberries dipped in dark chocolate, smiling sunflowers that open to a beautiful summer’s day, and of course, Monday mornings.

0

Apr 15, 2014

Apr 15, 2014 at 5:17 PM UTC

smidge

Monday Mornings

Every day is the same; they wake up in the same bed, at the same ungodly hour, to the same monotonous ringing from the alarm clock. They grumble their ‘good morning’s; whether they believe it is or not, rolling out of opposite sides of the duvet. They dance around each other in the bathroom, the heat of the shower creating a fog through which neither of them can see; causing him to stub his toe on the toilet or the counter, and steaming up the mirror so she can’t apply her make-up. They continue their ritual into the kitchen; flicking on the kettle, popping in the bread, pouring the orange juice; stirring the tea, catching the toast and spreading the butter and jam. Crunching and slurping together at the table, mumbling about what their days have in store; tapping texts on their phones, crinkling newspaper in their hands. They peck each other a kiss goodbye and mutter a ‘see you later’ before going their separate ways. But then Monday comes... Mondays are different. He knows she doesn’t like Monday mornings. It’s the very beginning of a new, long, tiring week. She never looks forward to Mondays. So he changes that. He sets the alarm on his watch a little earlier than other days; shutting it off before it can wake her. He slips silently out of bed and tiptoes quietly into the bathroom to shower; leaving her smiley faces and love messages on the steamy mirrors. He creates her favourite tea and makes her toast with raspberry jam; just the way she likes it. Picking a flower from the garden; whichever one looks the happiest and brightest, he places it all on a tray and pads back up to the bedroom to wake her. She no longer sets her alarm on Mondays. She knows he’ll not let her oversleep. He places the flower in her hair and drops delicate kisses; full of his love and affection for her, to the corner of her mouth, until she stirs gently. She smiles on Monday mornings. They eat breakfast in bed, covering the sheets in crumbs and giggling contentedly as the cat licks them up. She hums in the bathroom while he clears away crockery, and always re-emerges with the flower tucked behind her ear. It remains there ‘til night fall. They never once look at their phones or the paper, far too focused on each other to pay anything else mind. Their kiss as they part reminds them of their love for each other and of the good things in life; like strolls along the shore, strawberries dipped in dark chocolate, smiling sunflowers that open to a beautiful summer’s day, and of course, Monday mornings.