Week’s End

weekend

They say all’s well
that ends well.
I wish I could say that
about my weekend,
the only two fleeting days
I glimpse in a week.

A crisp white tee shirt,
A pair of faded blue jeans
to match with my rainbow
colored flip-flops,
a head full of easy hair
that I comb with my fingers
before going to fishing,
unread books, some  
half-made dreams,
warm food and love;
on a Saturday they all
appease the silent colors
of my five day long canvas.

I don’t add too many delights,
carefully choose only a few.
The simplest ones that my
paintbrush crave the most.

Then the Sun sets again
on a gloomy Sunday evening.
The easel is asked to
hold another blank paper,
and the flat calendar
never stops spinning to
repeat its routine.