Poem: The Monday Rush

The Monday Rush

The morning breaks with frantic light,
A race begins, the end in sight,
The coffee brews, the streets are packed,
A symphony of tasks exact.

The clock ticks on, the minutes flee,
A world in motion, none are free.
The rush of voices fills the air,
While thoughts are tangled everywhere.

The traffic hums, the people move,
In a blur of work, a steady groove.
Emails ping, the phone won’t rest,
Another week begins its test.

But in the rush, a breath is lost,
The joy of living comes at cost.
And still we chase the fleeting time,
In Monday’s race, we climb, we climb.

Yet through the noise, the chaos wide,
A quiet hope begins to glide—
For every rush has room to pause,
A chance to live outside the laws.

So as the rush drowns out the day,
I’ll find a moment, make my way,
Through Monday’s frantic, frenzied tide,
And let the stillness be my guide.

Thank-you for reading.

Much Love and light,

Brenda Marie