Friday

Friday is now my cemetery day.
It used to be our free day before you left us.
I didn't need to clean or cook,
just relax.

You loved Fridays too.
"No school tomorrow, Mum.
I'll sleep late then."

But I hated Saturdays,
because you would stay out late with your friends.
You see, I couldn't be your mum and your teenage friend.

You had your own language,
your own fun, your own stories.
What was I in all this?
Nothing?

Maybe someone who gave love and cooked good meals,
who is now only a Friday visitor to your grave.