Yesterday

I wanted to sing about
Sunday mornings
Like this band from my childhood.
Sunday morning –
I’d bang my head like so.
Sunday morning
If only I’d wake up.

These days I get up
With the clouds above
And no sun to indicate
If it’s morning, noon or late.

Sunday mornings used to be
Spent with family; noisy and nosy.
Now I spend Sundays
Soaking in the rain.

No amount of singing
Of Sunday mornings
Will turn back time or change things.
Have to fly on my own wings.

So I skip puddles
And meet typhoons head on,
Hoping to breathe life into
My Sunday afternoons.