Monday:
No good umbrellas!
Grey clouds drip desperation
onto cobblestones.

Tuesday:

I'm so tired, but
I keep going, an unspoken
rebellion, so hushed.

Wednesday:
a turning point in
the form of just another
smile drenched school day.

Thursday:
the school week has an
expiration date, but who
really reads fine print?

Friday:
after red rain boots
stomping in polluted puddles,
a trip to the sea.

Saturday:
self-care is that old
porch swing and burning your skin
in a long shower.

Sunday:
a day filled with the
aged church benches and older books
their pages drip with hate.

Monday:
After contorted roads,
we're back here, eyes fill
with knowing suspense