Poetry

A Weekend’s Speed (#1112)

Weekends go by so awfully fast,
One blink, and it’s in the past,
Just when I feel it’s getting started,
The darn weekend has already parted,
Why can’t the weekdays go so quick?
It’s like some cruel and evil trick,
Much akin to catching fish without a net,
The weekend is gone before my feet get wet,
For once, I’d like it to go nice and slow,
To smell the roses and go with the flow,
To breathe and in the weekend, relax and bask,
Is that much too much to plead and ask?

Any Thoughts?

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