Sitting, silently; contemplating
the world of worry that this
slow and sombre Sunday morning
will lead too.
Too maudlin and melancholy
for drink or song,
to disengaged and disinterested
Just sitting, in dread anticipation,
waiting for the wearisome world
to unwind and engulf me.
waiting for this solemn Sunday morning
to pass and be gone,
to leave me here,
replete in lassitude and lethargy.
to waive the woes and dreads
and leave peace in its stead
Deep blue Sunday Funk.
© Dave Kavanagh @ daithiocaomanaigh.com