Sleepy-eyed summer Sunday
Framed pictures on the wall.
Memories of bygone days stored safely away.
The clock is running a minute late.
No one is expected to arrive today.
Grand schemes are visions of some other day.
Not here, not a whisper, all the music has been played.
No one cares to know; no one cares to say.
Sleepy-eyed summer Sunday
has a certain aura of peace an quiet to it.
The dog naps snugly in the lap.
Not a care in the world inside or out today.
Nothing of earth-shaking consequence to say.
Nothing is forever.
In between black and white reside shades of gray.
-30-
Chris Hanch 6-27-2021
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