Sunday morning

Spring lives here where sunrise greets
weekend coffee and conversation
Trust and truth rests – in your lap,
my feet – in my hand, a newspaper

Did you know, dear, that the world has stopped
understanding but we know our demons, and we know
our angels, and this day you are the guardian
of my heart – the town might talk and the Bible Belt

Tightens around your T-shirt, but we live
how we live and we’ll love how we lo –

Never been like this before.

You do the laundry and I’ll make the pancakes
batter in my hair and you call me, beautiful

So come over here honey rest your mind on my chest
Newspaper says the world is crying but we don’t
know what all this unhappiness is for



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