A weekend without any plans,
No chores or projects to complete,
No set appointments or demands.
Two days, an unmarked, clean white sheet.
A canvas bare and waiting still,
For color, structure, shades and light,
Left for our pallette minds to fill,
With varied options of delight.
When, years from now, we reminisce,
Upon our long lived histories,
Those times we count most full and rich,
Will be such empty days as these.
