CALENDAR
It's a daily, often sad, memoir
of what I did or did not do.
It stares from my desk, the calendar.
As glaring as a falling star,
It forces the chore of a daily review.
It's a sad, often sad, memoir.
A lost day is another scar,
Another promise to begin anew.
It stares from my desk, the calendar.
Today is one less in the reservoir,
Flip the calendar and say adieu.
It's a daily, often sad, memoir.
Time is a swirling scimitar,
Hissing today may be my Waterloo.
It stares from my desk, the calendar.
Keeping me awake, this bitter brew
Has the smell and taste of vinegar
It's a daily, often sad, memoir
And it stares from my desk, the calendar.
