I watch the morning sky turn bright
and full leaf trees welcoming light.
This is the kind of perfect day
that calls to all for frolic and play.
I think of crowds heeding that call,
and just don’t want to deal with it all.
By staying in, what’s to regret,
fond memories I may forget?
In the bitter cold of December,
which summer days will I remember?
If I turn in, and skip the fun,
than today is not likely one.
I could focus on my chores,
or just sit until I get bored.
Is it bad to get my way
and have just one, fully-wasted-day?
This poem was posted for the previous week’s poetry prompt, Time Wasted.
Poetry Prompts and Poems 
I’ve enjoyed your poem, especially the way it moves from FOMO (fear of missing out) to JOMO (joy of missing out). ‘In the bitter cold of December, which summer days will I remember?’ – what an interesting question to ask!
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Thank you for sharing your thoughts. Sometimes, the drive to gobble up all of the sunshine of summer overshadows the enjoyment and ease that could be part of it too.
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Sometimes a ‘wasted day’ is the perfect way to self-care
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Thanks for your comment. I completely agree, this poem came from a morning of wanting self-care and having a long to-do list.
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