I don’t have to look forward to a Friday br or face the melancholy truce of a Sunday Eve. br No more counting weekend hours br till the dreaded bell of Death Monday tolls. br No more smiling at fools, br nodding at dull tales of wasted freedom br or waking nights br sweating their rules into a teardropp pillow. br br I might take a walk br on a lonely tide br or tell the sea that I am free. br I may paddle the journey of a thousand miles br with sun kissed sparkle toes, br or jive some time with seagulls. br I might sit alone br and watch br a sweeping ballet of swallows br or pass the day with dark deeded rooks. br br For I am free, br free for good, br with the sun and the sea br beside me br and br wishing every shape br were we.