Friday

A day of holiday it is,
Supposed day of relaxation.
In a way, it would considered be;
A day of gradual deceleration.

An afternoon of music,
Tinkling of Schubert’s “Ave Maria”.
A run through for a celebration,
With ladies to the fore.

An afternoon of rain,
The sun’s gentle rays to cool.
A peaceful contemplation,
Of period pass and gone.

It was but almost a score ago,
When I first ventured solo.
Away from the comforts of home,
To a place where white cliffs have been sung.

Now sitting on my bed,
Sewing with a deft hand.
Or at least I would like to think so,
To mend my tattered apparels.

Studying is what I should be doing,
For an approaching examination.
Yet, the will is so weak,
Continuing my procrastination.

Instead, another book I do pick up,
Of drow elves and dwarves.
Salvatore’s dark elf masterpiece,
A better saga by far.

And here I am again,
Pondering upon the day.
Where have the hours gone?
Where am I today……