Wednesday has always been my favourite day

The very day Mum would be paid

Atop the fridge packets of chips would lay

My little brother and I would fight over yoghurt and grapes

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On Tuesday's Mums heart would break

Lunchtime, our stomaches would ache

At home we'd moan, complain

Not knowing how deep her pain

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We would constantly fight over the space
Next to Mum on the brown couch we'd claim

Together we'd spend every second of the day

Those were the days before I moved away

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We didn't talk as much anymore

No checkups, how are you, no fighting at all

He now towers over me so handsome and tall

Me a little boy, my brother a man you can call

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Recently, I glanced in the mirror and saw my father

How much I hated what I saw in that moment