From Monday to Friday, life
Passes me by with trivialities,
And mundane, banal routines,
Filled with bosses and monotony.
Going through the motions,
Living the life I was gifted
Each day a Little closer to
Purgatory and sweet angels.
But on Friday there´s a spark in me
Born again from grey skies
Fighting out of my heart, like
A baby chicken from an egg.
I feel the weight upon my shoulders
Evaporate and I can smell the goodness
In the world once again, as
I see her walking towards me.
On the weekend I´m alive, with
Our hands intertwined as we briefly
Let go, on account of the sweat
Only to resume again minutes later.
We watch movies and documentaries
As I look over and admire her
And occasionally lean over to kiss
Her soft sweat lips.
Time passes by like a speed train and
Soon somehow it´s Sunday as
We walk slowly towards the metro
Grey skies forming once again.
Sean Stones is a poet and aspiring novelist from Darlington in the North East of England. He studied a Masters Degree in Creative Writing at Sheffield Hallam University and currently resides in Madrid Spain.
No comments:
Post a Comment