Sunday Afternoons


Those Sunday afternoons

so close to you was me.

Heart, mind, body, soul –

As near as near can be.


The weekdays were too full

of things that mattered not.

Come Friday evening, look around

and see how little I got.


But there you were, just waiting,

when I opened up the door.

All my busy weekdays melted

and humbly fled across the floor.


Two very different lives,

blended and merged just so;

two very different ideas about

how the marriage was going to go.


It was the best of me, at my worst.

All your greatest fears were known.

The seeds of my discontent grew up

from everywhere I’d sown.


I didn’t know. But I didn’t care.

It’s hard to say that to you.

Because I really tried to be

the man you wanted too.


I do agree but I can’t undo it;

all the trouble from my lack.

It wasn’t yours, but my lot in life

to have a monkey on my back.


I watch the weekdays still go by

just as quickly as Christmas passes.

I don’t see things the same ol’ way

with this brand new pair of glasses.


The monkey’s gone but so are you.

It’s a fact that won’t be denied.

The longing stayed, and remains today.

There’s no place that it can hide.


When I think of the times gone by,

And those that left too soon,

I find my heart still yearning

for those Sunday afternoons.

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