Sunday

Hours

paint a picture of movement.

Yet, I sit still

watching paws tumble

over yarn and clammor after

stray bug bold enough to venture here

Page and cover linger near

begging to sate my appitite

Playing cards remain in boxes

Bills remain unopened

and unpaid – demandingly

set on the top of a pile;

papers unwritten, unread.

un un un

…  We all sit here

still

contemplating the pigment of time

as it meanders forward unaware of the

last brushstroke

content to just

breathe

Sunday.

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4 thoughts on “Sunday”

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