Wednesdays
The streets slept on those Wednesday afternoons,
the eyes of every shop closed, as some napped
and some prepared for church. Some would nap there
as well. In the unhurried way of then,
if some should choose to fish, instead, that was
okay. Come Thursday morning, salesmen, grocers,
and barbers would come back and doors would open.
and small-town life did very much go on.
The world little noticed as things changed,
as Wednesdays faded into all the rest
of life, and every day became the same.
No one now sleeps away the afternoons.
Stephen Brooke ©2026
a bit of poetic nostalgia
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