Unencumbered as a Sunday brunch,
your smile induces lines
of years,
as we gather around
the looking glass
on a Monday movie night
Christmas dinners of past
resurface every Wednesday
And two weeks of a late summer
campfire in your hair
makes Thursdays
slide by.
Friday night, oh Friday night
we walk through our
tiny town, like
normal people.
Our glamour of Saturday
is for the
others,
But Tuesdays,
Tuesdays are mine.
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