Time passes slowly on a Sunday. You wake up, not wanting to do anything. You wake up without an alarm, skip breakfast, have a late bath (or none at all) and have a massive, tummy-bursting lunch. And you then sleep. For hours. When you wake up, you notice the time has moved only an hour.
You wake up to an empty room.
The sun has set, you don't hear the birds.
Your neighbour uncle's groaning car,
Your Mum doesn't shout, 'Your coffee is getting cold!'
You get out. Oh, the prospect of life outside the gloomy room.
Outside.
There is someone else like you loitering on the other side of the road.
You smile. In empathy.
You walk until your mind is full,
You look at your watch,
Its x+10.
Back to the room.
Its as you left it.
Only,
You have to turn the lights on.
Time passes slowly on a Sunday.
Isn't it us who don't move?
You wake up to an empty room.
The sun has set, you don't hear the birds.
Your neighbour uncle's groaning car,
Your Mum doesn't shout, 'Your coffee is getting cold!'
You get out. Oh, the prospect of life outside the gloomy room.
Outside.
There is someone else like you loitering on the other side of the road.
You smile. In empathy.
You walk until your mind is full,
You look at your watch,
Its x+10.
Back to the room.
Its as you left it.
Only,
You have to turn the lights on.
Time passes slowly on a Sunday.
Isn't it us who don't move?
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