THE WEEK a poetic attempt by Alba Arango

Monday is the day worth forgetting, while
Tuesday sees the early glimpse of a smile.
By Wednesday the mouth has relearned to speak
so Thursday's humor can be tongue-and-cheek.
Our hearts rejoice and beat ‘cause it's Friday,
then Saturday we can wine, dine, and play.
On Sunday we must relax and repent
and wonder how all our time we have spent.
We claim we learn from the mistakes we make
when we stray from the ideals we have set.
But still, temptation finds a way to break
our intentions so pure, but now in debt
to a master, so cruel, our souls, so bleak,
as we bow to the one, our owner, The Week.