Sunday

Sunday

A Poem by Anna

Does Sunday lose its meaning when the endless summer ends?
The day that only holds importance when the sun has gone away;
it erodes the feeling of daylight, but now the light bends,
and the woven blankets, the soft blue night, cannot stay.

Is this ache the same emptiness that I used to let grow?
The dark shadows I pacified with words I could always say;
it began as a constant, like all other comforts I know,
until the Monday morning revealed the deserts cradled in May.

© 2018 Anna


My Review

Would you like to review this Poem?
Login | Register




Reviews

i liked your play on words,and i wonder to
sunday summers are great days

Posted 6 Years Ago



Share This
Email
Facebook
Twitter
Request Read Request
Add to Library My Library
Subscribe Subscribe


Stats

140 Views
1 Review
Rating
Added on January 30, 2018
Last Updated on January 30, 2018
Tags: sunday, life, depression, haze, blue, gold, light, moon, night, may, august

Author

Anna
Anna

Raos Crest, Nowhere



About
"I say, Wendy...Always if you see me forgetting you, just keep on saying 'I'm Wendy,' and then I'll remember." more..

Writing
Still Waters Still Waters

A Poem by Anna


April April

A Poem by Anna


Ginger or Coal Ginger or Coal

A Poem by Anna