Tuesday Passed

I lost a day, the exact same 24 hours

Someone told me today they liked my last poem,
and I couldn't remember what it was.
Because it was two days ago, duh!
I skipped yesterday! Not good!
I borrowed the graphic from a sewing
site. Sew maybe I should say "sew bad."

you had and lived in (hopefully)
peace, or at least relative drama-free
grace. A Tuesday, which when you think
about it, is usually a good day to lose.
Not the beginning of a new week, not
the end, not hump day, just Tuesday.
Sort of like a Thursday, but yesterday was
Tuesday and it passed without a poem.
The words were there. The words and
thoughts and feelings were all there,
but un-acted upon. Dormant. Impotent
without the posting. As if it matters.

It matters to me.

I live my life each day, trying to catch up to
standards that someone else has placed
upon me, trying to achieve, to reach the
goal that others set but never reach
themselves, But this one. A poem a day.
The gauntlet thrown down by a friend,
it matters. Even if it doesn't matter to another
soul. To me, it does. And so, a day was lost
and made up now, so I can sleep.

(c) Ellen Gillette, 2014