Sunday

It's Sunday morning, I am done with my morning swim,  and now while it lasts and while I can I am sitting and letting the Sunday morning feeling seep in. I am looking around in the closet of my memory, searching for a poem or a song that would echo in words, the feeling that a Sunday morning brings along, I can't seem to find any.

Googled, well google may know the answers to the questions of mind, but when it comes to quenching  the queries arising from the musings of the heart, even, poor google stands not a chance.

So, still in search of my Sunday morning poem or song, my thoughts have gone wandering,

Here is one, which has trailed down, the green countryside on a bicycle, found a meadow, with a glorious bunch of flowers in spring, while it is hot summer all around, it can hear the wind sing, and a distant bird or two chime in, while it lays down and drifts slowly away into a dream, enjoying the bounties that have been laid out by nature for the soul to let go all the cares and find for itself a little rest.

Here is another thought, that has found itself waking up in an unknown bed, listening to the peaceful silence, with a mental sigh of relief that, the silence won't be broken unless sought, slowly it walks out of bed and around, pouring for itself a glass of fresh orange juice, while breathing in the calm of being far away from the chase, for a moment it closes again it's eyes, and then it walks out greeting the sun, switching on a playlist it goes out on the run, winding up in a roadside cafe for a brunch.

Here is another one, which has woken up and found itself lying in his arms, kissed his quietly sleeping form, before being playfully taken into his arms and finally ending up full of laughter in a playful tussle. Waking up to the day, with countless plans that may or may not become, but the promise of fun.

Here is another one, all dressed up in an old blue denim, with a mug of coffee, soft strawberry roll, painting a canvas while listening to music playing in the back ground, in between, catching up with the book lying upturned, punctured with a long walk, a sandwich break, walking back while licking a softy cone, and deciding to stand still in a corner of the street while watching life that passes by.

And.....zzzzzzinggggggggggg, the 11 o clock alarm, that had been set, to bring me back from my reverie, into the chaos that life is. And the Magic of Sunday feeling has already been lost in the rush of all the things that are waiting to be done before I rush back to work again.

But, before I rush off, here's the song that I finally found in the memory closet - Ronan Keating's Say Nothing at all.


                      Happy Sunday, my friend, reading this post wherever u are, whoever u are.