Saturday

I wish I could collect Saturday's I would keep them in my pocket. 

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When the pitch of life was getting to tight, harried from growing calendars I would call time out. 

I would pluck a Saturday from my pocket and jump into this feeling today.  

Cool morning air blowing in from the crack in the window, the feel of soft cotton sweats against my skin, the warmth of my sweet puppy at my side and I would know I can tackle anything.  

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