In an air conditioned office, <br />I sit all alone on a Sunday. <br />With demands beyond the suffice, <br />Sunday is no longer a fun day. <br />The gentle noise of the door, <br />The hurrying foot steps on the floor. <br />Life seems to be a bore, <br />Hopefully, looking for a distant shore. <br />There is no one but me, <br />Waiting for an opportunity to flee. <br />Being Sunday no 10 AM tea, <br />None for company, only me and me. <br />Days of struggle, <br />With a volley of tasks to juggle. <br />Deep inside a frown and a giggle, <br />To soothe me a note from my inner bugle. <br />_____________________________________________________________ I am not writing this poem for sympathy or as an instrument for self pity. I tried to vent out my feelings through this seemingly frivolous poem. But I am hopeful for a better tomorrow and of course a rewarding and relaxing sunday.<br /><br />Supriya Choudary<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/officially-sunday/
