I watched as the week flew,

On wings of solid steel.

Picked me up and dropped me off,

And didn’t once ask how I feel
I thought I’d have so much more

time with which to play.

Instead I chose to get stuff done,

each and every day.
When all I wanted was

a room somewhere, 

far away from the cold night air,

to sit and write whatever I dare.
But instead I adulted the week away

With work, errands, and chores.

One of these days I’ll get it right,

and use time off for what it’s for
But now the weekend comes again,

with a cocky strut. 

I tell myself I’ve lots of time,

but fall back in the rut.