It’s another Friday night
And the sofa hugs my bum,
There is a glass of wine for comfort
And a curry for my tum.
When the world was but my oyster
And pearls lay at my feet,
How my young self would have horrified
At this weekly ode to defeat.
But I have learnt things since
That this green-eyed girl had not,
And nine ‘til five can be pretty hard
When your boss doesn’t give a jot.
So fill my mind and my glass
Of simple weekend dreams,
And while you’re up, save my feet
And fetch the custard creams.
About the Creator
LilyRose
Corporate cog by day, poet by night. Writing is my happy place. Comments, follows and critiques are always welcome!
Michel Onfray
"La fiction de Jésus n’a été nourrie que de mots, de couleurs, de pierres, de livres, de chants. Le Christ est une invention des hommes qui a nécessité la confiscation de l’art pour rendre possible une incarnation." The fiction of Jesus was nourished only by words, colours, stones, books, songs. Christ is an invention of men that has required the confiscation of art to make possible an incarnation. Michel Onfray, from Cosmos
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Comments (1)
Great entry, and I loveee that ending :) perfect :)