Saturday , Saturday , been looking forward to Saturday ,

Eaver since you said y'd be home on Saturday,

I had so much to tell , shear my life that I had lived since last you were home,

I was so existed , bublerling like a brook in flood with so much to say,

But you bearly said two words to me since you came home , on that Saturday

The Saturday, this Saturday's now gone , I was so looking forward , now gone,

So my buberling broke once more flows underground , my music silent ,

Oh why could you not look at me and see what is me , on that Saturday

Hear me , listen to me , afore it's to late, , Saturday , Saturday

Soon the child that I am will be gone , before you know, before you know,

Will stand before you , a woman a stranger to you , yet strangely familiar,

Then dawns upon you , the strange woman was once your little girl

Who you should have noticed , herd , listand to, made a fuss of , cuddled

That Saturday , just yesterday , you will regret in times to come.

Ken D Williams ( THE DYSLEXIC POET )


(copy righted)