For free time, Sunday Plunders our Saturday night Bequeaths to Target
Feeling old and blind I squint my way back home to Order bifocals
4:30 wake up Roads to work trapped under ice Wrapped in Monday’s wrath
The clock holds the cards I get to pick only one Workout, read or write
The work week crouched down While the weekend pace loitered Soon the week would pounce
Why when I lust time My child group thinks and plans Why not our own paths?
Weekend free time is Still nine loads of laundry but Done in my jammies