I knew when I woke
Despite the distant hope
Of birds singing at dawn
A First this year
The day would be grey
Slow and I would feel low
And now it is just so
I wait for Monday
Doing chores as I go
Trying to ignore it
The heart sighs and wallows
And so it is life
In the shallow end
The little flow drowning me
Surely even as I go slow
O, so very slow
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem