At Rest

I come zipping into the day

for a landing

taxiing up to the weekend

shutting down my engines.

Ready to deplane.

I’m in a new country.

I want to look around.

I am amazed at what I

see.

I may not want to return

home.

The weekend beckons like

no other land (of the free)

home of the brave.

I won’t fight for my

right to be here.

I’ve earned it.  I’m resting.

And onto another land.

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Categories: creative, creative writing, Poetry, Uncategorized, writing | Leave a comment

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