Sometimes Sundays

12 Sep

Art by William Oxer

Sometimes Sundays are like this.

Quiet and easy. Music playing. An eclectic mix of new and old, blues and rock, opera and orchestral, R&B and jazz, folk and dance, rap and reggae. Music from every corner of the globe.

I have windows open to the world. Sounds from outside meet and mix with those within. The calling of birds, the baaing of sheep, neighing of horses, occasional barking of dogs. Sometimes a car. I live in the country among trees and hedges, fields and farms, hills and valleys, streams and secret places. Away from the grimy rush and flow of the city.

There is a stillness about today. It is in the light, in the air, in the breeze, in the quiet passing of time. It is in my thoughts. It is in my mind.

I burn patchouli and read poetry. I strum my old acoustic guitar, strings and frets familiar beneath my fingers.

I think of you. Your beauty and your smile. Sensual and warm. Your body. A heaven of curves.

I enjoy the ache. The longing. The yearning. Today it is not wild. Yet it is constant. An endless prayer of desire.

I write words. Some of which you will read.

The afternoon stretches and breathes.

I think of you.

Sometimes Sundays are like this.



© the author writing as Romantic Dominant/Faded Romantic

Art by William Oxer


Posted by on September 12, 2021 in Poetry, romance, Still Life


Tags: , , , , , , , ,

10 responses to “Sometimes Sundays

  1. SCM

    September 12, 2021 at 3:37 pm

    So lovely words…


    Liked by 1 person

  2. astrosub

    September 12, 2021 at 7:33 pm

    Beautiful words.

    Liked by 1 person

  3. Allison Marie Conway

    September 13, 2021 at 11:04 am

    This… the writing, the intimate sketches of outer and inner scenic landscape, is pure enchantment. 🌹

    Liked by 1 person

  4. thereluctantpoet

    September 13, 2021 at 11:10 am

    Reblogged this on The Reluctant Poet.

    Liked by 1 person


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