Sunday night. Lights off.
Can’t sleep… Tomorrow’s Monday.
The Sunday night jitters get me every time.
So much to do, such meaning in my work.
Like an athlete before a big game, stomach churning.
I know I need the sleep, so I drift off.
Wah, wah, wah, wah. The alarm.
Jump out of bed. It’s time to get going.
Another work week is here. Time to pursue my purpose.
Quick, shower, your creative genius is waiting.
Ok, eat as well, your body will need it.
But get to work fast – the world is waiting.
This is what it feels like when you’re living for Monday.
Why do you live for Monday? What is the feeling you get on Sunday night? Do you relate to today’s poem? If so, how? Please share in the comments!
[Photo by Library of Congress on Flickr]