Savannah’s Weekend Poetry

As I lay in my bed waiting for the clock to hit 9

I think of what I have to do.

Lost in my mind, taking me places I wish to be.

As I wake at 9, yawn and stretch,

feeling a sigh of relif due to the day.

Saturday.

How happy it makes me.

Nothing to do,

Nothing to say,

A blank canvas,

I can paint with whatever I want.

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