Sunday quiet, Sunday breathing:
Incense smoke encircles our heads,
Books and letters disarrayed on our bed.
Silent weekend we are leaving.
Sundown sinks beneath our heads -
Sunday quiet, Sunday breathing.
Through our books we both are leafing:
Side by side, we indulge our heads
In the quiet and wisdom upon our bed -
Sunday quiet, Sunday breathing.
Written 5/11/08
© 2008 Nicole Nicholson. All Rights Reserved.
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Sounds like a relaxing Sunday. Very nice.
It is. I think in moments like this, everything – time included – just stops. Thank you for dropping by.