Sunday, 7 April 2013

Sunday By The Way

Sunday morning
stumbling mumbling
With nothing much
but little else to do
Skirting seedy stories 
in the sinful Sunday news
a sad type of 
Times New Roman Blues

Eggs over easy 
with coffee steaming hot
Discovering once again 
life after sleep
Harshly disapproving
eyes of sunlight shards
My mind is featherbedding 
on the lighter side of deep

Floating by my ear is 
a mournful love song playing
Someone’s mirror image 
A flypast on reflection
As I nibble crunch my toast 
the day at last kicks in
Feeling guilty
with my static no direction

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