Though it’s been a dull, uneventful one,

I’d rather have it over and again

Than through a storm, not knowing if it’s done.

I’m glad it was, let’s do it all again

 

Monday was dull, as it has always been

Since when have Mondays been the other way?

Maybe when a special day falls therein?

Dawn to dusk, wishing for the end of day

 

The days between are insignificant;

All that matter is, “is it Friday yet?”

All throughout nothing feels significant

But endless longing for the week to end

 

Here comes Friday, and we will have a blast.

Finally, the wait is over at last.