It’s past 4pm
The September rain is wearing its makeup
Boss is still wheeling in his chair
It is a Friday, it feels unfair.
In a rush, I hope to meet my lazy self
We have a rendezvous
The fun is much, the hours too few
Clubs will still reek of last week’s stale air
The booze will still taste the same
But the ladies will wear something that betrays what the weekdays made them wear
The boys will, as usual, want to impress
But after the whole hullabaloo,
Heads will weigh a little more on Saturday morning.
It’s just another Friday.
Thomas Tee2emm Bot