I Miss Her Most on Sundays…

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On Sundays…

we would cook our meals. Sharing the space called kitchen.

I, in her way.

Her, in mine.

But we loved it. We had the most genuine smiles

On Sundays…

we prayed through the mornings. Churched it in the afternoon.

Lazy moments spent on the sofa

Provided the best ‘spoons’

The breeze from the patio, the whisp of the ceiling fan

Made life a little more livable and two fools more lovable

On Sundays…

The park called our names, hurried us there…carrying our troubles away

if only for those minute hours

we lay among the flowers, sharing our hopes

Dreams for the future, laughing hysterically

at nothing, at the whole of it all

On Sundays…

The beginning of a new time, the end of another

Sundays were the times we spent together

where the world existed of us. For us. With us. Just us.

where heaven was on land

where I loved her and she me and loving was our plan

Our greatest times, our defining times

were made

On Sundays….

I guess I feel nostalgic

over days that’ve gone & past

Milling over all that was, remembering the good of it and also the bad

I don’t know how she spends those days now

we’ve not spoken in awhile

I miss her still

Though it doesn’t show

I miss her most

On Sundays…