Was a Friday night, amongst the dancers.
Close closer, different were his romances.
So vivid, yet simple, could they all remain.
Precious the memories, never the same.
Was a Friday night, no trieste he'd extend.
So small was his pull, yet defenses transcend.
Had the eye of an eagle, was a canine at heart.
Whisked down lifes' chute, thinking never would part.
Was a Friday night, become Saturday's lament.
The bloom's off the rose, now is a time to repent.
Thoughts light as the wind, in the cover of night.
Wish all days were Fridays, bringing forth delight.
'thoughts light as the wind'
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