Poem -

Sunday, Sunday

Sunday, Sunday

Sunday, Sunday.
Lee.

Sunday morning is crumpled duvets under chins,
Is curtains closed until dinner,
Is the tv on, not watched,
Is a delivery of McDonald’s McMuffins,
Is dog walker’s walking comfort on a lead,
Is a pilgrimage to the cemetery,
Is church bells pealing, unheeded,
Is hangovers hanging around,
Is cringing at last night’s messages,
Is doing as little as possible without feeling guilty.
Sunday morning, I guess, is me…

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Comments

author
Tony Taylor

Such powerful, poetic, truth LEE.....with stirring imagery created by wonderfully insightful phrasing!!....an absolute pleasure to read dear poet brother!!....truly!!.....ALL STARS & PINNED!!....well conceived and BEAUTIFULLY delivered!!.....Bravo!!......LOVE & ROCKETS!!......T xo  : )

Reply
author
Lee Robbins

Thank you for such kind and thoughtful feedback, T.T.🙏🏼✨✨🍷

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