Sunday Someday

Alone in her home

Cleaning the floor

Washing the dishes

Wishing for more

Working all week

And then scrubbing her home

Hating her job

Selling blue cleaning-foam

One day, she decided

One day she would run

She would get on a plane

And go have some real fun

But now it was Sunday

The day of the week

With the same old routine

Although, yes, it was bleak

Music Is

Inspirational

Everywhere and everyone

Courageous and loud

The Glass Door

In the warmth of a summer day

With happiness floating around the air

Through a path in the rosebushes outside the house

Into the garden with the wild flowers

Over the trickling stream

Past the tall oak trees and

Sheltered under the hanging willows

Sits a chair with a book and a key

The glass door awaits you nearby

The Winter Death

Flowers wait with baited breath

In the earth beneath your feet

The frosty air and frosted earth

Feel little of your heat

A beauty scene and sleepy dream

Have both this been described

For in the pretty world of snow

Comes death; the ending tide