a single's sunday <br />bachelor's sunday <br />lonely as the sun <br />bright, warm <br />yet cold as ever <br />echoes of deserted morn park <br />reverberated <br />in lonely hearts <br />winter's sunday <br />a bachelor's sunday <br />the lonely walk <br />between the skyscrapers <br />that hid the sun <br />making the day drowsier <br />more melancholy <br />the heart, slayed <br />bobs up and down <br />in an ocean of wish <br />too big for this little frame <br />the mind tries cheering itself up <br />with verses shuttled between <br />different corners of the world <br />the muse's only Sunday warmth <br />that cup of coffee in hand <br />and pen in hand <br />painting the world <br />in his own colours, fashion <br />in his attempt to rise <br />above the waves of Sunday's blue <br />mozart, bach, beethoven, <br />trail the bright Sunday rays <br />sending a wave of joy <br />in this self sustaining survival <br /> <br />inspired by: <br /> <br />Those Winter Sundays <br /> <br />Sundays too my father got up early <br />And put his clothes on in the blueback cold, <br />then with cracked hands that ached <br />from labor in the weekday weather made <br />banked fires blaze. No one ever thanked him. <br /> <br />I'd wake and hear the cold splintering, breaking. <br />When the rooms were warm, he'd call, <br />and slowly I would rise and dress, <br />fearing the chronic angers of that house, <br /> <br />Speaking indifferently to him, <br />who had driven out the cold <br />and polished my good shoes as well. <br />What did I know, what did I know <br />of love's austere and lonely offices? <br /> <br />Robert Hayden<br /><br />john tiong chunghoo<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/those-winter-sundays-2/
