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Sunday Song
The morning sky tickles me with clouds
It stares down at me with a big amber eye
The wind blows on me
As hot and wet as the breath of a bear
It tangles my already knotted mane...
Walking to your house
I trip over the cracks in the sidewalk
I feel that bored sadness that Sundays always bring
My heart dreams of Saturdays in springtime
Back at your house
We drink cold, saccharine coffee
We watch a movie
And fall asleep on the sofa
In each other's arms
Sundays fall away
Sundays become years
But they never change
Even more beautiful on the second reading!
Starward
This is very poignant and lovely, however sad. Until I became a Christian, I felt exactly the same way---for some three decades. Now, all that has changed.