What are you doing on Friday?

Would you like to hold my hand and walk by the river?

Would you like to cradle a bottle of wine and a whole box of ritz crackers?

Would you like to walk into a bar and try not to become a punchline?

Would you like to scream at the stars all night long?

With me

I do not know how many Fridays we will have together.

How many more days we will share

I do not know when the sun will set on our horizon, but I’m here.

I’m here and Friday is coming

Do not give up yet.

When every day feels like a Monday

When every tear hits the earth calling for Tuesday

When Wednesday seems like a mountain too high to climb,

Remember that Friday is coming

When Thursday seems to last longer than you can bear

And the only thing keeping you from falling apart is Friday

Then remember Friday is coming.

I know the tears are fresh on your cheek

I know day never seems as long as the night

I know there are flowers locked behind a glass window that we simply can’t reach

But what are you doing on Friday?

Want to pick our own flowers?

Write our own songs?

Shine our own flashlights?

And forget that there ever has to be other days.

Forget that every day isn’t Friday

Just hold my hand

Let the sun break through the clouds

Hold me close to your chest in the silent air of June

And ask me,

what are you doing on Friday?