I am trying to not to let go
Of all the time we've shared
As I lock the memories up in my mind
And throw away the key.
Why can't every day be a Thursday-
With the wistful promise
Of a weekend looming near,
And the soft fade of a week
Left behind?
Monday hold regret,
And Tuesdays only reconcile,
While Wednesdays hold no hope
For a quick and painless expiration.
Fridays are a wink
Across a crowded room-
An innuendo with no sober connotation.
Saturdays hold too few hours
Of undivided time,
For no one but those select few-
A jovial attempt at
Utter relaxation.
Sundays can never be
Fully enjoyed with the realization that
Monday lurks within the shadow of the clock.
Why can't every day be a Thursday-
When new friendships are born,
Romances flourish,
And the sun never sets upon an unfinished day?
© K. Cochran 1997
