Monday mornings are sincere struggles
Between your sleep and tight schedule, a deadly juggle
Tuesdays are like playing in the dark, the blind man’s buff
Despite knowing that you’d be losing, sure enough
Wednesday winds blow strong but steady
Telling about the upcoming weekend, to keep you ready
Thursdays know you’ve got no more strength to slog
But there’s no peace amidst the ever stacking backlog
Fridays are there to cheer about the weekend
So the entire day is for celebrating a week’s – “The End” ,
Saturdays are for turning your Sunday mood on
Tuning in to your own beat, getting the lazy shoes on
Sunday perishes then within a blink of an eye
And the next Sunday then feels, is as far as the sky
The only wish you then murmur to yourself on your way,
Is, “I wish a week was made up of 7 Sundays!” – Isha Deo