Sunday evening

That sinking feeling

Between the junction of rest and play

And the necessity of bills to pay

Resisting reaching for the bleeping phone

To check emails that wait forlorn

A thousand things to pull in shape

To do your best, to money make

A thousand more to press delete

Creeping shadows growing tall

Defeat best efforts to reach the depths of sleep

What ifs and what haves forgotten

Lists and plans writ on repeat

Start spiralling til time to go

Returning just a week from now.