Poetry – Over the Weekend

I’m beneath the sky now. I no longer have to sell my time. My day is my own to do with as I please.

I choose to spend it writing, reading and travelling, seeing my family and laughing with my friends.

That sounds like freedom to me.

I loved my job but I begrudged the time. There was so much to do and not enough time and energy to fit it all in. It seemed that you spend your life wishing for weekends, holidays and time off to recover. it was intense.

OVER THE WEEKEND

Over the weekend and under the day

Buried in work with nothing to say

I’m not over the weekend but I’m under the day

Busy selling my time for a dollop of pay

 

When I’m over the weekend

I’m bought down to ground

Stuck under the day

Subject to the pound

 

We’re all living tomorrow

Stuck in today

Running low energy

Hard into decay

 

Life could be a weekend

Lived in a sigh

Where under the day

Means beneath the sky

 

OPHER 12.2.97