© Vivianne LaRiviere

On a Sunday….

Where do we

Drift to,

On a

Sunday morn…

When

Brume and

Wind wrap

Time, against

Backdrops of

Memories, and

Empty sky?

Who do we

Talk to,

On a Sunday afternoon…

When

Echoes of

Aloneness,

Call us,

In, and out…and with

You?

What do we

Hear,

On a Sunday evening…

When

The light begins

To sing,

Like places

We’ve known before?

Who do we

Touch,

On a Sunday night…

When

All is nothing,

But

The colour

Of the

Day?

How do we

Listen,

On a Monday morn…

When

We know

We could

Have loved

You.

More.