Heartbreak/Renewal

On Sunday’s eve I patch my heart with gold,
And lace it with a ribbon of conceit,
On Monday there’s no story to be told,
The love was not untrue but incomplete,
With Tuesday’s snow no longer can I speak,
And lonely flakes sing red-cheeked harmony,
On Wednesday, though, the tenors have gone weak,
And major F becomes a minor C,
On Thursday there’s a glow beneath the hills,
And rich as gold can be, I feel it fray,
On Friday come the wonders, joys and thrills,
That tickle me and tear my threads away,
On Saturday I understand once more,
The love that I had lost the week before