Waking to the sound of the birds
outside the window
sun peeping up from her bed
moon lowering her head
for some time off from her stage
and I?
rising up from sweet slumberbash
coffee on the boil
my Moka bubbling away
telling me, it\'s ready to pour
into my bright blue oversized mug
waking me for the day ahead
stretching up, feeling my freedom
nowhere to go, no one to see
my only questions are to myself
maybe a roast?
with Yorkshire puddings?
I\'ll read the paper, and then I’ll decide
no rush, the day has just begun
so for now my choices
a stroll perhaps?
or a laze on my garden lounger
just watching nature
watching the cypress green and noble
standing still in the frozen breeze
like a painting on the Tuscan landscape
nature that\'s so unpredictable
anything can happen
It\'s Sunday, a day of rest
a day where I can relax
maybe, just maybe
I\'ll even paint one of those trees, onto canvas?
after all, this is
an ode to Sunday.