Wednesday. Poor Wednesday. I feel for you, with such an inauspicious moniker. Ill-fated from the start really. Yet here I sit at nine in the evening smiling at my computer screen. I have an ongoing list of things to do. I feel okay about it. I cross things off each day only to add new items. Wednesday this poem is dedicated to you. xo
Wednesday.Â
Your in the middle,
neither here,
nor there!
Known as the hump,
though I doubt that you care!
Your minutes pass, the way minutes usually do.
One way or another,
I find my through.
I like you as much as any other day,
and spend you in a variety of ways!
 Time will continue to tick,
and you will always be the brick,
that hold the week together,
rain or shine,
whatever the weather!
