Sundays

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Chimneys topple the houses in the street,
that line the parks where folk meet!
Roses hang over the wall,
trees and shrubs grow tall!

The streets meander like the rivers,
the cold breeze is enough to make you shiver!
Up and down the hills towards the lake,
and the wind is so strong, to make the windows shake!

Though it is Sunday and people are home,
in the garden the wildlife roams!
They are having their Sunday Roasts,
“and I am having mine too!” I boast!

The day is marred only by the cloud,
the street is quiet and the music is dead!
Whilst the pretty flowers adorn the gardens,
and thoughts of enjoying the day, go round in your head!

The day is going rather fast,
and the gales into the night will last!
Keeping dry and in the house,
and the upstairs is quiet as a mouse!

Let the gales rage on till they are done!
Because, you are safe!
When the clock strikes quarter past three,
it will be time to cook the tea!

So rest it up on Sundays,
for these are your fun days!
The tv is on and the coffee is made,
in the end, the gales will fade!

© Copyright 2020 The Coffee Poet, All rights Reserved. Written For: The Coffee Poet
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