Sunday Morning

I remember Sunday mornings, sitting in sunlight.

Yellow wrapped all around me, my sun dress.

Appropriate attire for such a golden time.

Warmth pouring in from the large glass doors behind the garden.

Watching spiders make their way stem to stem.

Sunday mornings, I remember them.

I remember Monday mornings, wrapped in sheets.

Wakened by a white light, and a tired mothers call.

Cooling my legs with icy jeans, wishing for one more moments rest.

I remember Tuesday mornings, sick with fever.

Laying on the sofa trying to study, with a kitten in my arms.

Wishing I too could live a life so simple.

I remember Wednesday mornings, driving to work.

My scarf tucked into my jacket, feet numb.

Wishing I had a lunch in my bag. 

I remember Thursday mornings, waking up to him.

An aroma of brewed coffee and waffle batter steaming.

Happy for visits to his city, and happier to be in his arms. 

I remember Friday mornings, sore from last nights run.

Legs shaky down the stairs, praying they didn't give out.

Orange juice for recovery.

I remember Saturday mornings

Filled with giggles, gossip, fuzzy socks and big t shirts. 

Friends surrounding me, tending each other’s hearts.

Sunday morning, is still.

Peace is present.

Moms newspapers crinkling.

Songs sung from every branch, each one a delight.

Golden beams return, and grant me rest. 

I remember Sunday mornings.