"Certain of Sunday, it had to be Sunday"
I said to my Bride in a moment of pique,
Oddly she looked at me wearing a half smile
"Monday, my Darling" she intoned with a squeak.

"Can't be Monday, possibly Saturday"
Back, said I, with eyebrow askance.
Laughingly merry she whirled in a circle
Dispensing me with a dis-missive glance.

Appalled I stood, unable to tabulate,
Befuddled, in that, it wouldn't compute
How could I lose my weekend to history
Besides losing face to my woman, astute?

Laughing it off with a toss of the shoulder
Dismissing it all with a fling of the head,
Pointedly ignoring the look she delivered....
A glare, under brow, with expression of dread!

[email protected]