During this lockdown, when the passing days
Are formless blocks of time, a groundhog haze,
Is this the point to rehabilitate
Monday, and tell Sir Bob to stop the hate?
Saturdays have always had an easy ride,
Whether you’re bushy-tailed or hollow-eyed;
Sundays stand aloof, think themselves the best
Boredom rebranded as the Day of Rest.
Tuesdays and Thursdays merge, a time-filled lump,
Wednesdays purpose is to give us the hump.
And even each cheeky Friday knows that it’s
Only loved because, however bad, it’s P.O.E.T.S.*
Monday’s not a joke. It’s not ours to abuse;
Life’s far too short and there is no time to lose.
*P.O.E.T.S: PUSH OFF EARLY, TOMORROW’S SATURDAY