By: Kathryn Andes
The sunday summer sun shines through your bricked window.
I roll over your lazy weekend body and saunter to smell the fresh air.
Scents of cinnamon buns from the bakery downstairs escape
And warm your apartment, toasty and bundled in a sugary golden package.
Underneath the light cream sheets
You wiggle your toes,
And your purple monkey socks show.
The jazz band in the park
Starts to play, and I’m
Dancing to the sunday noon tunes.
But the gravity of the day doesn’t get to me.
I’ll stay here with you until the mighty moon glows.
And the neighborhood dog bellows and blows.