Blurry Friday Nights

Photo by Sincerely Media on Unsplash

For some time now,
Friday nights have been blurry,
But not in the conventional way;
The whole week has become a slurry.

Weekends are no longer
Longed for,
As backs become stiff,
And legs become sore.

Every day seems the same,
There’s no sense of time or date.
Calendar boxes are checked off,
There’s no such thing as a clean slate.

Anything could be
A Friday night,
Or a Monday morning
With no end in sight.

Pop a bottle of lively champagne,
Or have a quiet mug of beer.
Smile on a Monday morning,
Thinking that Friday night is near.

MondayMotivation, TuesdayThoughts,
WednesdayWisdom, just the same.
A bit of nostalgia on ThrowbackThursday,
You’ll never realise when Friday came.

Perhaps it’s because of the jammies,
Which in video calls go unseen,
Or because you have nowhere to go
During this perpetual quarantine.