On Sunday Mornings
On Sunday mornings
just what does the world do?
Such a large population off from work,
services and breakfast complete
and greeted by the day bright, clear and sunny?
We set our sights on shopping, off to the mall
or hurrying to ball games,
some preset enterprise
well planned earlier in the week.
Even Sunday services seem hurried,
people barely able to contain distraction
from an hour set aside for prayer.
Some come late, some leave early,
some check their phones for messages or calls
while others whisper conversations and plans for the day.
God above must indeed be saddened
with the one hour compromised
by so many things more important than prayer
and reflection of the mind and soul.
So many Sunday mornings come and go
with little focus from the daily race.
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a
Premium Membership.
