�Sunday�

She sits alone in her living room window
Facing the glass unaware of what happens outside of her vision
The mirror on the wall behind her reflects into room all that she’s never walked through
With hair tied back quick with an elastic band into a greasy knot
Looks like she has forgotten letters to reply to and monthly paperwork to sort out
I sit in the house opposite, watching with my breakfast and I’m wanting to walk her through somewhere leafy
With the letterbox clatter of another unwanted Indian takeaway menu
(Don’t know why we have those notices pinned to the front door when no one bothers to read them!)
Distracting my attention and I’m back in my room
Look at the time- there’s friends to visit, better get the warm wine out of the freezer
I’m dressed my Sunday best and shooting out sweaty into this helpful Summer breeze…

The square was gently buzzing and the constant steam from feet cooling in the fountains
People all chattering, but the sound is muffled so we can’t understand the words
The circling traffic honks too loud or the shouts of “Move it” are draining conversations out  
On the paths the sun hits the white concrete and reflected back into our faces
Kind of like when you see snow on the ground in the winter, but this was hot- my God, it was hot and blinding
Our ice cream melted before we got a chance to enjoy them- had to bite the bottom off the cornet and suck the flavour out
Decided to get out of the heat rising and soak up some artistic occasion
The gallery was refreshing as the temperature was set to chill
But we were too self conscious while standing before the paintings…
How long should you study the brushwork for?
Should you get in close or stand way back?
Was there an acceptable length of time to appreciate before you move on to the next piece?
And all I kept thinking while slowly walking about was:
Whether the best works would be available in the shop as a fridge magnet or cool tea towel?
Now just a quick bus ride to the other end of the city to a shady park
Can’t wait to start the Pino Grigio and study the wildlife (while they kick around a football)
What a great day, but I’m knackered all over again- time to go home…
 
Late that evening I sit and scan through the best photos of the day
The awkwardly framed stupid faces and red cheeked strained poses of best mates and complete strangers
“Can’t remember taking that one” and “Oh, that’s what they were doing with the camera”
I chuckle to myself
Smiling I click the kettle on and go across to close the curtains…
S**t, she’s still sitting there alone in her living room window
Facing the glass unaware of what kind of day it’s just been outside
The clock just visible on the wall beside her represents nothing…a wasteful collection of numbers and dragging hands
Bless- is this all that she’s done today?  
I sit in the house opposite, watching with my cup of tea and I’m wanting to help walk her through somewhere outside to actually feel the green-
Maybe next Sunday.