Rising with the sun,
early in the Sunday morn.
I open my eyes,
awakened by the yellow glow.
The birds chirp like an orchestra,
sometimes a cacophony.
Nature’s music invigorates my soul.
Like a good breakfast,
I feast on nature’s beauty like a short stack with syrup.
The sun coats the world like butter.
A love of Sunday, sometimes I relax,
mostly, I move to rejuvenate my soul.
A Sunday love, she lays next to me in bed.
Her slumber ends with a kiss on her cheek.
The yellow glow flourishes against her skin.
A Sunday love, yet again, begins.
Vicariously Poetic 