Mondays Poem by Phil Soar

There's a thing about Mondays I always find Strange
The people around me seem lost and deranged
Is it really so hard to get 'up' for the day?
Without feeling you'd rather be home, or away

Glum faces with traces of weekend vacations
Or just plain tired bodies, from excess relations
The topics of which leave you feeling quite drained
And the thought of your workplace, just adds to the strain

As the day unfolds slowly, the mood often lifts
Once you've told weekend stories about relationship riffs
And you see everybody is in the same boat
Just wanting to smile, just to keep you afloat

This 'vessel' you come to for five days a week
In this sea of confusion, effort reaches its peak
Around about Thursday, you start to unwind
Leaving the rest of the weekdays behind

There's a thing about Fridays I NEVER find strange
Working up to the weekend, where we all re-arrange
Our lives, speeding up to a welcome two days
Where we pledge our allegiance, to our leisure days