Monday's Child

Monday’s child is fair of face?  Hah.
More out of sorts and out of place.
Mom was gone, two steps would follow.
Home not home, just cold and hollow.
To Monday’s child, Dad oft would say,
“Hey, little girl, how much should I pay?”
(He isn’t himself; he’s just a souse...)
“What do you charge to haunt a house?”

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  1. Oh, Patty. Woman, if they allowed reverse adoptions, I would adopt you in a heartbeat. Wait. I make the rules in my world, so consider yourself adopted.

    And let's pick you a new birth-day while we're at it. Mondaze just don't do you justice.

    Your poem, though, struck chords and nerves aplenty. Superbly written.

  2. Thanks, my friend, though I think we'd be straining the laws of nature a bit (unless, of course, this is not your first shuffle on this mortal coil).

    But not to worry, in any case. It sounds worse than it was. As you know, we have the ability to make our own reality, and eventually I made myself a doozy.

  3. You nailed it! This is not my first go 'round... by any means. And no doubt, not my last.

    Nature's laws were meant to be sprained, strained, flexed, stretched and questioned.


Thoughts? I would love to hear from you.