Monday, January 23, 2012

The Monday Table


In search of a bit of clear white space,
Turning off my designer’s eye,
I seek only a breakfast place,
Recounting my weekend with a sigh.

This mess of incongruity is the Monday table:
Fraught with papers, books, and half-eaten fare.
I strain and wonder, How am I able
To finish Sunday night with this mess lying here?

Reading headlines of the papers I pile,
Belongings of other rooms I stack,
Housewares to be washed, I collect and smile,
This effort is my life, it’s not my lack.

As I recount another fruitful weekend,
Filled with activity, joy, and with thought,
It’s not my housekeeping that’s gone off the deep end,
It’s simply my is still approaching my ought


3 comments:

C. August said...

Well, that's just brilliant. Thought provoking, chuckle inducing. Bravo!

Jenn Casey said...

What he said. Also, I have a Monday Table every day of the week, I think. But that's okay. :)

Lynne said...

Merci beaucoup, mes amis!

Also, my table is more or less like this everyday, but it's somehow an affront to my Monday mornings.