Sunday breaks with golden hue,
A canvas painted fresh and new.
The gentle sun dispels the night,
A tranquil dawn in morning light.
Soft whispers of the waking breeze,
The world moves slow, a gentle pace,
In this serene and sacred space.
Time stretches out in leisurely grace,
The hours drift, both sweet and slow,
From brunch’s cheer to quiet strolls,
In moments simple, joy is found,
As Sunday’s peace wraps all around.
Resting in the day’s soft glow,
We savor time, letting worries go.
About the Creator
Abbas
Versatile writer skilled in both tale & stories. Captivate readers with engaging content & immersive narratives. Passionate about informing, inspiring, & entertaining through words.
Any Questions
Maybe I never loved you, maybe I did, maybe I was caught up on how I lived. Maybe my dreams turned into fears, maybe you were the one to make it better, maybe I wanted this forever. Maybe I cared, maybe you didn’t, maybe I made promises before committing. Maybe it was you since 2008, maybe it was me, because I wanted to be great. Maybe I hurt you, because maybe you lied, maybe you destroyed me on the inside. Maybe I was bruised, maybe it was abuse, maybe my promiscuous ways made us fuel. Maybe it was mayhem, maybe it was childhood, maybe everything will never be all good. Maybe I needed to elevate, maybe it was God. Maybe it was all the time you spent with her, maybe it was marriage, maybe it was babies and carriages, maybe it was us sitting in the tree, maybe it was the chirping of my tweetle Lee Lee. Maybe it was love songs, maybe it was magic, maybe I should’ve waited for this tragedy. Maybe I’m embarrassed, maybe you’re ashamed, maybe love is just a runner’s game. Maybe I give, maybe you don’t, maybe I’ll care, maybe you won’t. Maybe you’ll come back, maybe I’ll pray, maybe there’s love in another way. Maybe your name means more than you think, maybe the time we spent doesnt change the way we seek. Maybe the heart’s were meant to break, maybe none of us are who we say. Maybe it’s over, maybe it’s just begun, maybe it’s because we were young. Maybe in time, maybe forever, all I know is that maybe isn’t never.
By Charelle Landersabout 19 hours ago in Poets
A Dart at Dusk
Seconds ago, the sullen sun set on the two of us… my exuberant furry companion and me. A fresh breeze embraces us, delivering welcome relief from the day’s oppressive heat. His typical stumbling and staggering along — apace with a sloth — has turned into trip-trapping, high-stepping, almost skipping along.
By Angie the Archivist 📚🪶6 days ago in Petlife
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