Five O'Clock on Friday

A much wiser man than I stated that being foolish on April Fool’s Day is like drinking on Saint Patrick’s day…strictly for amateurs.

Therefore in that spirit, and to preserve my professionally foolish nature, here’s an attempt at a serious poem.

It’s Five o'clock on Friday

And the crowds are going home

Plans for fun and frolic

They’ll have new places to roam

But weekends bring no joy to me

As the group goes on its way

I'll sit inside my empty home

And while the days away

It's five o'clock on Friday

Everyone goes out tonight

I watch the world spin by me

Stuck alone and full of fright

People I see everyday

Make dates and off they go

But I've no destination

And it fills my heart with woe

It's five o'clock on Friday

Another week has come and gone

But those two days do not help much

When you spend them on your own

The time when others re-joice

Brings a tear into my eye

For the weekend brings no happiness

When you are a lonely guy

It's five o'clock on Friday

But no sympathy I'll take

I'm really thrilled, and have some plans

This poem is a fake

My untrue rhymes are finished now

My final point I'll hit

You can't tell a suff-rin' artist

From a smart-ass, full of...............baloney

Then I go  “woo-hoo! woo-hoo!” and bounce over the horizon.