Lazy Days and Sundays

It's that kick off your shoes, walk-around-in-your-socks-or-barefoot kind of day,
The days where even time seems murky -
Sleep, wake, eat - back to bed
Lazy? Maybe. Proud of it? Hell no. Gonna change it? Nah.

We all deserve to break - each other off (that's for another poem)
But sometimes our beds deserve special recognition for our impositions,
The numerous (sleeping) positions we toss and turn into every-night.
So let's make peace.

It's Sunday. Time for the sun to come out (and me to ignore it);
Hug your pillow, close the blinds.
How many hours has it been? Eight? Ten?
- Who cares?

So here's to lazy days.
Hazy lazy days.
Mazy hazy lazy days.
Crazy mazy hazy lazy daysy.
Ladies - save your laughter.