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Monday Morning
Monday Morning
Monday morning the alarm clock rings.
The coffee pot comes on and smells of my wake up elixir pulls me out of bed.
Birds begin to sing as the sun rises over the horizon.
The Dj plays “Workin’ For The Weekend “ By The O’Jays.
Steam fogs up my mirror as rain falls from my shower head and washes away the night before, giving me a feeling of refreshment.
Memories of the night before dance in my head of you telling me goodbye because our weekend of playing house and passion was coming to an end.
My longing for a more permanent commitment and you not being ready….. Content with playing house on the weekend really rocked my brain.
Monday morning facing another week of drudgery as I fight the a.m. traffic.
Walking into my building exchanging greetings with the security staff…. Ready for my Monday Morning in my cubical facing the window thinking of you and the night before.
By Katherine Mills
Written 4/11/08
Monday morning the alarm clock rings.
The coffee pot comes on and smells of my wake up elixir pulls me out of bed.
Birds begin to sing as the sun rises over the horizon.
The Dj plays “Workin’ For The Weekend “ By The O’Jays.
Steam fogs up my mirror as rain falls from my shower head and washes away the night before, giving me a feeling of refreshment.
Memories of the night before dance in my head of you telling me goodbye because our weekend of playing house and passion was coming to an end.
My longing for a more permanent commitment and you not being ready….. Content with playing house on the weekend really rocked my brain.
Monday morning facing another week of drudgery as I fight the a.m. traffic.
Walking into my building exchanging greetings with the security staff…. Ready for my Monday Morning in my cubical facing the window thinking of you and the night before.
By Katherine Mills
Written 4/11/08
Comments
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posted on Apr 19 at 5:55 pm
This poem really gets me because I UNDERSTAND it too well!:-) "Stolen Moments," become repetitive dreams and things we can only hold onto in our deepest and most sinful slumber. I also take from it, "get happiness WHEN you can regardless the consequences." Is this a fair assumption? Regardless....I know what the poet is trying to convey, thus it speaks and I listen and want more.:-)
posted on Apr 19 at 6:01 pm
wow you got all that.... I wrote this poem simply because it hit me suddenly that I had not written on this subject of what i call playing house on the weekend. lol I am glad you understand the deeper meaning of my work some people who read my work get so lost that they just forget it has a simple message nothing mystical about it.
posted on Apr 19 at 7:02 pm
The beauty of poetry is it connects through experiences. If the reader has been through the situation you speak about. Then half the battle is won!:-) But if the reader has not experienced your trials. Then it becomes a surgery of words to operate on willing/unwilling minds. Poetry is voyeurism a glimpse inside your world unguarded. The more honest the poet the more effective the message.
posted on Apr 19 at 7:04 pm
Right on Preach it Brotha.