Friday Night Pang
It’s the end of winter,
The sun has migrated,
Finally full circle,
The weeks are the same though, still,
as I drive home,
at weeks close,
heart racing,
and afraid to be alone.
I know there’s a chihuahua face,
That will greet me at the door,
But there’s a Friday night pang,
It’s in the walls, the rooms, the air,
my mind is cotton,
and there’s this Friday night pang,
That won’t leave me alone.
