A short story

On a Tuesday afternoon, she was lonely.

On a Wednesday she was light.

On Thursday she got married,

And Friday felt alright. 

In the car she was a frenzy.

In the plane she coughed too much.

In the way she moved her body

It had a gentle touch. 

Off the beaten path she strayed

Though roaming's not her style, 

With burdened arms and heavy legs

She walked a country mile.

Up a hill and to a stump,

She sat for fear of falling

How she wondered why it was

She'd ever left off crawling.

Saturday she had this thought

Sunday showed her rain.

Monday passed without a sound

So Tuesday came again.