Friday Again

These
Days,
I Wake
Up
Worried,
The
Colorful
Snake
Of
Fear
Nipping
At
My
Rear,
The
House
Repairs
That
Take
My
Cash,
The
Stubborn
Yard,
The
Constant
Trash.
Disease
And
Rage
In
The
Land,
Trouble
On
Every
Hand.
I Want
To
Hide
And
Then
I See
The
Puppy
And
Her
Joy
Over
A
Chewed
Up,
Ragged
Toy.
I Take
Hope
From
Her,
Pet
Her
Glossy
Fur,
And
Remember
My
Good
Cheer.
By
All
That’s
Sacred,
I’m
Still
Here.