Impatience… a poem

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PLIGHT

Monday morning sweeps in on its tide of dissolution, for Sunday has yet again faded into what was but a short respite of gleeful felicity.  Even the hands of the steady clock seem to fade into an obscurity of loss for the blissful weekend gone asunder.  Echoing louder and louder the tick-tick-tick of the distant, soulless timepiece upon the wall drones with apathy.  Haphazard thoughts drift back in time to a place where the heart, mind, and soul were free of the hustle and bustle of this common life.  Keystrokes and toneless voices fill the day as will be the case over the following four whose only solace is that of yesterday’s promise of tomorrow’s deliverance.  Less a cataclysmic event causing a ripple of the humdrum daily grind shall we move ever so slowly into Tuesday.

Yes, even here after a full rotation in our celestial orbit around old Sol we long to propel ourselves forrader.  Hope that has weakened has not yet cracked.  Sanity, while questionable at times, holds steadfast in realism.  His is not that of a lonely, solitary psyche.  No, his is based in the sentient strength built over decades.  Enter Wednesday…  Not bittersweet as a mid-summer night to the lovers of that season, but rather a reprieve in the belief that one’s resolve can, once again, stand strong.

Good day, Thursday… You are a bountiful grapevine of sweetness to the bittersweet echoes of days gone by.  You… you prop up the hopes and dreams of that kindred optimism lurking ever so close, that were you chocolate, you would be a sovereign companion to all who crave your successor who has once again crept closer.  Ascension cannot dawdle endlessly, as he too must bow to this ever-circling satellite, for the approaching lunar man shall soon reach down and touch the ebbing tides that they might once again flow.

Alas, Friday slams into our tortured, but unbroken, pragmatism.  His is an encumbered lure of patency.  The accumulation of dreams that burst upon our consciousness after a long, dormant, imprisoned vestige. The ever-creeping, laboring workforce of time are once again releasing their clutch and accelerating.  Optimism causes more oxygen to mix with the blood in our veins as we, sitting on the edge of our seats, inhale more deeply and envision the serenity that tomorrow promises.  Assuaged in that one holy grail of freedom becoming a campaign upon the muscles in the buccal of our countenance.  Yes, dear reader… The weekend is once again upon us!

Author: What Words May Come

Hopeless romantic; joker; father and grandfather; husband; sportsman; part-time writer;

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