The Hours Flow

The clock strikes five, the workday done,

A sigh escapes, the race is won.

But restless hands and minds still yearn,

For fires that office tasks adjourn.

A seed of passion, long held tight,

Pushes for sun, to claim its light.

A part-time dream, a chance to grow,

Beyond the tasks the daydreams know.

With evenings carved and weekends free,

The chance to build what longs to be.

A bakery's warmth, a writer's quill,

A craftsman's touch, with practiced skill.

The hours flow, a patient art,

A second life to claim a part.

Not just for fortune, but the spark,

The joy that blooms in the after dark.

So full-time friend, with heart aflame,

Don't let it wait, ignite the name.

For in the seeds of part-time dreams,

A future bright and vibrant beams.