Saturdays Poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar

Saturdays,
Are not...
Meant,
For the lonely.
And not...
For those who are afraid.
To live a life,
Wished with a wanting to live.

No those Saturdays,
Are not...
Meant for the lonely.
No they're not,
For the ones afraid...
To live life,
A way...
They wish to have it lived.

But a Monday morning blues comes too soon...
With the dawning on a gloomy mind,
That Sunday...
Could have been spent,
Resting from yesterday's happy events.
And thanking the Lord for all the blessings sent.

But a Monday morning blues comes too soon...
With the dawning on a gloomy mind,
That Sunday...
Could have been spent,
Resting from yesterday's happy events.
And thanking the Lord for all the blessings sent.


Those Saturdays...
Are not,
Meant for those lonely.
And they're not,
For the ones afraid...
To live their lives,
To live.
And be about it doing.

Oh stop throwing those Saturdays,
Away...
Just to feel lonely.
Since loneliness is...
A want.
And not...
A given.