Sunday Morning

Sunday morning,
I’m glad you came.
Lay low back home now
Chained to this lane.
If you don’t come home,
I’ll go insane.
Sunday morning, 
I’m glad you came.

Glance through the hour-glass,
Tricky specks of grain.
Holding tight the clasp
Of a buttery strain.
Sunday morning,
I’m glad you came.

Take you fishin’ on my boat now
Walk a walk with you.
Twistin’ my ankle
Say carry muffins too.
Sunday morning,
I’m glad it’s you.

Hurry back up hill
Lest you miss the train.
Hand you down your badge keep,
Don’t tell me your name.
Sunday morning,
I’m glad you came.
Sunday morning,
It’s not the same.

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4 comments

  1. ipeniwrite · August 23, 2015

    beautifully written

    Like

  2. Prayas Bhatnagar · August 23, 2015

    Beautiful as ever Nishita!..
    Its simple. Its refreshing. It is everything you crave for in a good poetry.
    Thank you for sharing this with the world.

    Liked by 1 person

  3. Nishita De · August 24, 2015

    Thank you 🙂

    Like

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