Three Favourite Words

It was supposed to be fun Friday, yet I was working late,
temperature soaring high, such terrible was my state,
Sun was beyond horizon, and few stars were out too,
I stared at the exceptions, that Java abruptly threw.

Cleaners were long gone, errie was the milieu,
was that a random shadow, peeking from the loo,
Ok that’s enough, it was time to call it a day,
I would sure hallucinate, if more longer I stayed.

Caught a train back home, standing on the aisle,
crawled a flight of stairs, dragging my tired profile,
the husband opened the door, even before I was steady,
and uttered my favourite words, “Honey, Dinner’s Ready”

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