Mondays Are The Worst…But On Second Thought

Just another Sunday night,

He thought,

The same,
As always.

Alone,
Lonesome,
And longing,

For a richness,
For a tapestry
Of living,

For acceptance.

And the morrow?
He dreaded.

It was neither the stress
Of a new work week
Nor the additional hours
Demanded of his day
That would have him crestfallen.

Rather,

Monday would bring

Memories of the unfulfilled dream

Of what could have been
On this past weekend,

Yet again.

He would reflect on
What it might have been like…

To wake up next to her,
So slowly
On a Saturday morning.

He would reflect on
What it might have been like…

To spend a day with her,
Doing whatever
She wanted to do,
Going wherever,
She wanted to go.

He would reflect on
How much pleasure
He would take,
From preparing that special dinner
For her…

Whatever she wanted.

So on this Sunday night,

He sighed,
Knowing yet again
The coming pain of Monday,
And the missed opportunity
To spend precious days of life
With her…

To be with her.

Yes, Mondays are the worst.

But then,
He thought about
How he would feel Monday night,
And Tuesday night,

And all the others.

Yes,
Mondays are the worst…

But on second thought,

Every day without her,

Was unbearable…

A day of
Precious life,
Lost.

© 2018 W. C. Stacia, Jr.

17 thoughts on “Mondays Are The Worst…But On Second Thought

      1. Yes… I think that is beautifully spoken. For each of us, none can know what lies ahead…we simply need to be open and trust that there’s a greater good that awaits us. Only to be revealed at the directed time. Yes? And, I’m humbled by your compliment! 😃

        Liked by 2 people

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