Like mondays

Like monday

We live in prose

Well, most of us, with stilted gait

It’s a process, this stricken pose

And quite often not worth the wait

While others exult in poetry

At the periphery of our vision

The prevailing mood is desultory

We will not sign your petition

The smiles and promises

At heavens’ gate

Are hooded lies

For those that hate

But the creases in happy skin

Are testament to fun

So you my friend may grin

And bask in the light of a friendly sun

For poetry and drudge

In their old familiar cycle

Witness lives lost to fudge

All peaks and troughs. Typical!

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