week day

blair’s mum,

Irene and timothy, 

ricky on the edge of life,

rang me up today: 

laney popped in on her way,

to save her brother again;

imelda rang and explained

she’d  spoken to her Alzheimer’s man who’d defined her likely decay;

my daughter wrote, of course,

about something I can’t disclose;  

my son sent me a photograph

no one can ever see;

my doctor emailed a summary

of my life expectancy;

my friend sent a text to say, 

everyone in the neighbourhood considered  him, ‘some kind of a Robin Hood’

but he was not okay,

while the rain which belongs to February 

fell on all today:

Monday being Monday  

same old same old day

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