Karat

Karat

On a Friday, when the week unwinds,
We chat of glint and gleam, of gold that shines,
Not in the weight of stones, but in the karat line—
A measure fine, where twenty‑four defines

The purest hue, a sun‑kissed tone,
While lesser numbers blend with alloy’s own,
Eighteen karats whisper rose‑kissed warm,
Fourteen hums a softer, steady charm.

We laugh and jest, the office hums,
A carousel of stories, puns, and drums—
“Did you hear? My boss just bought a watch,
Twenty‑two karat, a timeless catch!”

In British ears we spell the scale,
Yet karat stays, a golden tale,
From Buckingham to Brighton’s pier,
It’s purity we hold most dear.

So raise a mug of tea, let cheers abound,
For Friday’s fun is karat‑bound—
A spark of jest, a glint of cheer,
In every karat, sunshine’s near.