Hear the little birds singing
The symphony swirls around
The heart wakes up early
It reads the calendar
It follows the dance.
Without heat, or a blanket
It seeks for the hand
Where's the warm hip for embrace?
The golden hair to cover the yes
When will it come
Through the back of myself
The sudden embrace?
The time it passes
The mind reads the signs
Alone, I stand
No blanket
Only a cold pillow
The bedsheets frozen
Scratching as sandpaper.
Sundays are not sundays
Sundays don't play around
Sundays don't walk around
Sundays don't stick around
Sundays don't move around
When sunshine's not around
For I want to be close
Back to sleep as I can
And when I dream no more
I'm fast
To the papers and pencils
Let's use the ink
To forge a new sunday
Drawing sunshine around
Keeping sunshine around
Hugging sunshine around
By writing this down.