Sunday

Sunday Just a bright coloured butterfly dancing in the sun filled rain Just another purple roof top stretching to the white clouds stained Just a couple of red robins causing no offence but to eat seed left gained Just a pile of bread crumbs on the green wet grass as pigeons claimed Just the sun seems to pass as the colour of the tree turns golden flamed Just sounds of the neighbours playing music vibrating wave lengths air contained Just a dog called Bob with a blue Frisbee in his mouth with which you can come close to but he retained Just two women drinking red wine and laughing as they slowly lament scrambled words mildly entertained Just an old man on a chair keeping warm in the sun light say “its freezing outside” then passes another cigarette past his lips brown fingers and coughing pained Just another Sunday roast dinner with far too many potatoes but until now I have never ever complained.