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Best Day of the Week

by Beanie Baby 

Posted: 12 February 2004
Word Count: 59


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Sunday afternoon.
Sleepy and contented. Still.
Gardening all done.
The dinner is cooking as
the house and the street, snoozes.

Sunday afternoon.
Washing flapping lazily,
dancing on the line,
football practice is over.
The playing fields are empty.

Sunday afternoon.
September breezes chasing,
cloud banks drifting by.
The cat slumbers on the grass.
I sit back. And enjoy it.






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Comments by other Members



KnoxOverstreet at 16:17 on 24 February 2004  Report this post
What a lovely dreamy poem. I rarely comment on poetry (not my thing unless you count humorous verse), but I was very taken with this. The drowsy rhythm fits perfectly with the multi-scene views of the day. What’s more powerful is that this is the rose-tinted Sunday we all dream about, rather than the reality (at least for me) of rushing around wondering where the weekend went. Great stuff.

Julian.


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