Tuesday’s Weight

There’s a quiet in diners, a slice of cold pie,

where the clock ticks in whispers, and time seems to sigh.

Coffee drips slowly, shadows deepen and spread,

the weight of Tuesday hangs, filling hearts with dread.

I watch as they rush, absorbed in the grind,

while I sit, half-empty, lost in my mind.

This day feels like tethering, a pause for the week,

a hush over chaos, where thoughts seem to leak.