Sunday

Sunday slowly clambers to life
Grey, still air, grumbling light.
Hangovers reluctantly struggle awake
Serving penance for saturday night.

Kites and Buzzards soar on high,
Early wakers, with dogs walk by,
As slowly the world comes to life,
With weekend sluggish, idleness rife.

Many have Feet up whilst watching tellys,
As half hearted gardeners pull on wellies.
A long dull day with nothing to do,
What could be better,
I ask you.

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