Torn From the Pages of My Heart
Saturday
Waking up from the previous night's frolicking
To a view of a glorious sun on a Saturday morning.
An inspirational book is spread open beside you
Your music, the crashing of the waves on the shore,
Only broken by calls from friends
Telling you your coffee's ready,
Along with sunny side ups and toasted bread.
Your phone's blinking in silent mode
The signal isn't bad, but to
Answer e-mails or text messages
Not on the list to do
Saturdays could mean…
Home improvement TV reruns,
Acoustic music, salad and barbecue, and
Morning till afternoon DIY projects too.
A night of pizza there, ice cream here,
And stories you could laugh with friends
Between sips of ice-cold wine or beer.
Saturday could be
Something you look forward to.
You could write that poetry,
Or read that nonfiction book
At a quiet cafe nook.
It is a promising day of possibilities
To either put on the break or
Step on the gas for stuff you wanna do
Saturday… could be a smile on its own
But Saturday is just a day
Squeezed between Sunday and Friday
With me working my fingers to the bone,
Saturday is just a name of a day,
Saturday is just a word.
To a view of a glorious sun on a Saturday morning.
An inspirational book is spread open beside you
Your music, the crashing of the waves on the shore,
Only broken by calls from friends
Telling you your coffee's ready,
Along with sunny side ups and toasted bread.
Your phone's blinking in silent mode
The signal isn't bad, but to
Answer e-mails or text messages
Not on the list to do
Saturdays could mean…
Home improvement TV reruns,
Acoustic music, salad and barbecue, and
Morning till afternoon DIY projects too.
A night of pizza there, ice cream here,
And stories you could laugh with friends
Between sips of ice-cold wine or beer.
Saturday could be
Something you look forward to.
You could write that poetry,
Or read that nonfiction book
At a quiet cafe nook.
It is a promising day of possibilities
To either put on the break or
Step on the gas for stuff you wanna do
Saturday… could be a smile on its own
But Saturday is just a day
Squeezed between Sunday and Friday
With me working my fingers to the bone,
Saturday is just a name of a day,
Saturday is just a word.
