Monday, and though the sky is blue
I took the train---
I could have walked home
In the pouring rain.
But that’s what I do every day.
Yesterday, when morning came
It started out a lonely day,
When you sat near me
With nothing to say.
But that’s how you are every day.
Love today is just a game,
But you can’t roll dice
And have your way,
People chase it then run away.
But that’s how it is every day.
On Wednesday, I fell asleep alone,
Waiting hours by a silent phone.
Didn’t think you’d call,
And I should have known.
That’s how this is every day.
Very close to giving up on you,
Waiting, waiting, for another sign.
Not sure where to go,
Or what I’ll find.
But I wonder that every day.
Every day I feel adrift, far away
And find myself telling fate,
When the week ends
And still I wait,
It will all be better by Sunday.
That's what I tell myself every day. |
Submission Name: Writing Restored
