The Morning After (Labor Day)
This sucks. Tuesday morning after
the long weekend. Schlepped myself
to the office to face the familiar pile
of work that hadn’t receded much
in my absence. Then I felt something
in my pocket and pulled out
a wad of crumpled up paper.
(In rushing I merely transferred
the contents to my work pants.)
Two receipts, a program and a menu
brought a broad smile. A late arriver
felt compelled to comment.
Yes I did have a great weekend
I said, though I didn’t share any
of the public and private pleasure
of all the things we did together.
#### Poet’s Notes ####
If you feel strongly about this poem, leave a comment below!
(I won’t delete rude comments, I’ll just reuse them in a poem — with attribution. ;-))
The image of the initial draft is below: