Memories of a sunday morn

I wake to find the sun
In harmony with my mind.
To hear the birds singing
An old fashioned lullabye.
And the sky is blue,
No cloud,norain.
Sunday Morn,hello old friend.
I listen to the children playing,
Games I used to play
And I know the words they are saying
Like it was only yesterday.
Sunday Morn-church bells calling,
Silent prayer,silent eyes falling.
The smell of roast filling the air,
Father asleep in his favourite chair.
Family walks and cricket games.
Dogs running free-will it ever be the same?
And children crying laughing in fun.
Oh beautiful child,oh happy one.
4'oclock...time for tea,
Hot buttered toast
By a fire bright and full,
Afterwards,baths,ready for school.

And clean shoes waiting,proudly in line,
Kiss the family goodnight at bedtime.
A prayer for mummy and daddt too.
Where do the sundays go to ?
But now,
How Sunday seems too long.
No more birds to sing my song,
No more games to fill the hours,
No more baths ,only showers.
The curtains are drawn
Close the door.
I sit alone,no sounds at all.
Oh to wish, to hope, to dream,
As a child when Sunday gleamed.
Now all I do is sit and recall
My Memories of a Sunday Morn.

Jaiijaii 1987