Author Information
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-Led [in Chrismation, Januarius]
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.