THE WOMAN WHO KEPT TUESDAY

THE WOMAN WHO KEPT TUESDAY

I found Tuesday in my shed,
It sat behind the door,
I knew that it was Tuesday,
I’d seen its face before.

I asked what it was doing,
It said I’ve lost my week,
Then Wednesday crossed the garden,
But neither one would speak.

I made them both a cuppa,
And gave them each a chair,
Then Thursday tapped the window,
And Friday joined them there.

By lunchtime I had Sunday,
Asleep upon my bed,
While Monday filled my biscuit tin,
With little bits of bread.

I searched around for Saturday,
But Saturday was gone,
The calendar looked worried,
Its days were all put wrong.

I tried to sort them nicely,
And put them back in place,
But Wednesday wanted Sunday,
And Thursday changed its face.

Then Tuesday grabbed my handbag,
And vanished down the street,
With Friday close behind it,
And Sunday at its feet.

So now I don’t trust calendars,
Or days that come my way,
If Tuesday knocks tomorrow,
I’ll tell it go away.