Repetitive strains

Jumped sprightly out of bed
and it’s
Wednesday, she read the news
I made tea.

It’s raining, I thought,
because it was raining,
nothing strange about that.

The day stretches out like a cat
it’s already wearing me down,
I made more tea.

Hearing the seagulls,
but I don’t think it’s the sea
those poor little bastards
are lost like me,
looking for the way out.

I made tea
me again
tea again
and the day stretched out even more.

© 2020, John Smallshaw.