Home » Poems » Niall Fulham » Sunday Morning

Sunday Morning

Sunday morning Sunday morning nice and calm Out comes the frying pan Skinless sausages turned slow Toast and tea for me The gang come running down they smell the golden brown How many can I have my children say you can all have two today My children are all grown up No more do I hear the running down no more the smell of the golden brown Sunday morning calm why my lip is falling down

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Anne-Lise Andresen

Date: 5/16/2017 5:36:00 AM

- They always come back to nest, Niall - We just borrow them ... touching poem :) - hugs // Anne-Lise :)

Niall Fulham
Date: 5/16/2017 11:30:00 AM

Hi Anne-Lise , yes I see them with a bag of washing and when I have a roast on,,,lol::))))hugs

Darren White

Date: 5/16/2017 3:13:00 AM

I can see you miss them, it's s little sad poem.... I hope they still come to visit you!

Niall Fulham
Date: 5/16/2017 11:27:00 AM

Hi Darren , I get to see them enough thank God :))))

Lisa Ricci

Date: 5/15/2017 6:03:00 AM

Hello Niall. Your children may be grown but if their like my sisters my brother and I they will always be back and you will see them running down. This was a lovely and loving entry. Well done entirely. PS your words capture a Sunday Morning marvelously.

Niall Fulham
Date: 5/15/2017 11:08:00 AM

Hi Lisa , thank you so much for your comment I am glad you enjoyed :))