BLUE MONDAY

A POEM by: Fernando de Mello Pimentel

The alarm clock rings.
A damn new week is born today.
The view out the window
depicts stale shades of gray.
Just more of that same old...
No birds in the sky.
No cars in the street.
No children at play.
Sounds like Blue Monday.
The only appealing view
is that of those warm wrinkled sheets
lying on that languid bed.
Breakfast is so insipid
it´s hard to swallow.
It isn´t sweet or sour.
Tastes like Blue Monday.
There´s plenty of dull time to kill today.
Feels like an entire day fits in an hour.
The reticent man makes
his way out the door.
His steps are dead heavy
even for the concrete floor.
Walks past faceless pedestrians.
They all appear the same in their shity mood.
Looks like Blue Monday.
The air is so cold it pierces through his garments.
He starts wondering what it would´ve been like
had he stayed under those warm cozy sheets.
“Heavenly Bliss!”, he reasons.
But no. He´s out on the freezing streets
and shivering to very tips of his toes.
Feels like Blue Monday.
Don´t think you´d want to know what
Blue Monday smells like...

All Rights Reserved - 2007 FPimentel Poems & Publishing Co.