The long forgotten Sundays.

What ever happened to my day of rest?
Sweet tea brought in bed
and marmalade toast,
on that day of which we made the most.
Whatever happened?
What happened to the sweet smell of polish and soaking wet rag,
Homework lined perfectly ready to bag?
Where did it go?
Little house on the prairie
as you gave me wisdom meant to be scary,
The Walton’s and that space show,
Sunday was the day when I had no place to go.
Bubbling pans, dripping glass
I wanted those days to forever last.
The tiny kitchen and cord brown stools,
I used to tip back acting the fool.
You told me this and that
None of it true all of it fact.
Time stood still as we chatted away,
whatever happened to my Sundays?
Dinner at 2 pm on the dot not a minute late
and never a thing on the plate for me to hate.
Chicken, pots, veg and gravy
then the afternoon for us to be lazy.
We walked by the sea with sand in our shoes
Rain, clouds or beneath a sky of blue.
I ran, I climbed, I skipped I walked
as we did, me and you talked.
What ever happened to my day of rest,
the day when we would reconnect?

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