Silent Sunday

silent sunday poem

When I’m with you, 
I get lost in the moment every time
You may not know it but
As we say goodbye I count the hours 
Wishing for the time I can be with you again

Waiting for you to say you feel the same
Feels like forever.
I’m not a patient person and that Sunday
I can no longer hold it

I grabbed your hand steel myself
Open my mouth, ready to confess
But then you say “What a silent Sunday”
And give that peaceful grinned
Yeah, yeah, I chickened out once again

Thanks for Reading! πŸ₯°

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36 thoughts on “Silent Sunday

    1. Thank you so much David ❀️
      I actually started writing poems only, it’s just that for some years now fiction have taken over my time. Still poem will be my first love. πŸ™‚

  1. 😍😍😍 So so so Lovely, I should expand my vocabulary✨ such a beautiful poem, so lovely 😍 Enjoyed reading πŸ€—πŸ€—

    1. I’m glad you liked it. I’m sure your vocabulary is expanding every time you read and write. I too still try to do the same, it’s a bit hard to feel if I’m doing a good job though, sometimes I feel like words just bounce off instead of sticking to my brain πŸ˜‚

        1. Oh come on, stop pretending, we both know you’re holding a grudge against me for giving you threats haha

          1. Heck, I knew Methuselah when he was just a kid! πŸ˜‡ (aside: ever read the lyrics to the old 1930s blues number, β€œIt ain’t necessarily so”?

            β€œMethuselah lived for 900 years.
            Methuselah lived for 900 years.
            But who calls that livin’
            When no gal is givin’
            To a man with 900 years.”)

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