The weekend is here
Stay in bed weekend --they call it
Night falls fast, snow falls softly
Covering the past
The day peeks out of
Plantation shutters
The city is waking
To ambulance sirens
Where am I
Am I home?
When will I stop
Fleeing ---from pain
Today
I will not --stay in bed
Drink my cuppa
Don my glasses
Spritz my hair
And buy a dream home
My own home
With lots of --windows
To whisk the emptiness away.
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