It’s Wednesday tomorrow.
In the past she would have screamed,
maybe jump in delight with that knowledge.
She would have stayed up late tonight,
turning her closet inside out,
looking for something pretty to wear.
She would have checked if everything matches,
dress, jewelry, purse, and shoes,
even the sparkly makeup she’ll use.
She could have had her salon appointment,
for an imaginary needed trim,
or a change of nail polish maybe something green?
That is a distant, foregone scene.
“It’s Wednesday tomorrow,”
a thought giving her sorrow,
as she walked towards the open window.
It’s Wednesday tomorrow;
And she can’t help but feel the sorrow,
knowing he won’t be there, not even after tomorrow.
This is one of my Guest Author Article at Harsh Reality.