It rains on my Monday,
Hard and long,
The sky gray and angry with the end of my resting days for the weekend
It rains on my Monday's.
Making my groggy, tired eyes open to the sorrowing tears falling onto the soaked black concrete.
It rains on my Monday's,
Umbrellas littering the ground while the wind howls through our ears chilling us.
It rains on my Mondays,
Hard and long and painful,
Making me wish and look forward to my next Monday,
When it will rain
And I will wake to more tears from the sky.
When I wake on my Monday and look out at my window its pouring.
Step out onto the front porch and stand on the black concrete.
Look up and let the freezing drops fall and slide along my skin tracing the pale features.
My hair is clinging to my skin stubbornly, eyes closed.
It rains on my Mondays, because sometimes our souls could all use a little rain on Monday.