Sunday

[Zen]

Take me back to Sunday
running through the trees,
and talking to them each.
Like they were you or me.

I liked how it used to be.
Young and too naïve.
It all was new to me.
Calming, truth-fully.

Somewhere along the way,
how we got lost, I don’t know.
Even on the coldest days
we had an island with no coast.

How I miss those moments. Hey,
the time it sure has flown.
Take me back to Sunday
for the silence that was our own.

Maybe I can’t see the sunshine
look as sweet as it once did,
or those leaves with butterflies
sweep within the wind.

But maybe in another life
I’ll be able to see them again.
Like they’re old friends.
Wake me when it begins.