Sunday
I remember red curtains
and red, round
Loony Tunes logo.
Red couch and armchairs.
Beets on my plate
and two dark butterflies
nestled in the corner of the room.
How excited and scared I was
when I though they were a bat.
Balcony door got open,
the curtains moved
and they flew away.
I remember red spots
on their fluttering wings.
Yet, somehow Sunday
is still a yellow day.
Boring,
depressing,
pressuring.
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.
