By Pamela Carvajal Drapala

It?s a lonely weekend without you
Light raindrops fall . . .
cat?s curled up in a ball.

I lay in bed, tossing
thinking . . . it?s no fun
No fun . . . at all.

Mr. Moon?s full . . .
he?s the only one who knows . . .
I?m sulking over you.

Muted TV images flash
across the screen
as I lay in bed- sipping hot tea . . .
glancing at pointless magazines.

Silence?s become my companion
and it?s become another . . .
lonely weekend without you.