The week parks the van,
loosens its laces and sighs.
Nothing left half-finished,
noise fading from tired eyes.
The evening leans in gently,
like a friend who knows the way.
Gleam glass catching candlelight,
asking nothing of the day.
And in that quiet unspoken pause,
the aches feels far away.
Friday evening glass of wine,
We start the month of May.
Smith Shine Poetry 
This is beautifully understated and very atmospheric.
There’s a real cinematic calm in the way the “week parks the van” and “loosens its laces”—those opening lines immediately turn something ordinary into something almost tender and human. The personification feels effortless, not forced, which is what makes it land so well.
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