If the week were people

Sunday is clothed in a white lace dress

she dances around the kitchen gracefully

she has the looks of an angel with dark brown ringlets

and freckles sprinkled upon her face like stars

Monday has a face full of wrinkles 

a head sparsely covered in whispy white hair

he wears old trousers and and a wrinkled dress shirt

he slumps sleepily in his armchair and drifts in and out of his dreams

Tuesday sits in his cubical farm

he attempts to make another sale, breaking yesterday's record

twelve hour days and overtime

he gets home and cracks open a beer, reheats leftovers, and watches the eleven o'clock news

Wednesday wipes the sweat off her forehead 

she does another twenty reps and sets the weights in their spots

she looks at the clock, reading two am

she ducks into her car to get home to her family of one

Thursday is cozied up in her bed by seven pm

she wears fuzzy pajamas with her hair in a messy bun

she dims the lights to a soft glow

and treats herself to a night in with popcorn, wine, and netflix

Friday leaves the bar after work to go to a party

he needs to loosen up

smoke, lights, drinks, music, drugs

he snorts another rail and feels like the king of the world

Saturday plays in the yard in the warm morning sun

he comes inside to grab a popcicle and he goes back outside to explore

and doesn't come back inside until the sun goes down

covered in dirt, a glimmer in his eye, he takes a bath and falls fast asleep.