It's seven in the morning,
Time to get in on the action,
With brushing and dressing,
But mind is still in inert-ion.
My eyes are half open,
With strong need for sleep,
As I try to awaken,
My heart is weeping for more sleep.
I sip hot tea slowly,
Counting the days to weekend,
There are five more days totally ,
Weeping my soul exclaims, "There's no end".
It's one of those Monday blues,
Where everything is black and white,
And there is nothing new,
To look forward in delight.
Come soon, dear weekend,
My heart cries,
I have no intend,
To say goodbye.
