Sunset on a Sunday


A moment of reprieve, as the weekend slowly closes,

To move a little slower and stop to smell the roses—

A time for a jest or two without feeling like a fool,

Time to notice how the air is growing cool.


There is time now to watch the sunset or the rising moon,

Time to watch the soft sand to leap from dune to dune,

And during all this time, for a moment, I relax

And remember, for a moment, for to slow my tracks.


Yet I know that when I wake tomorrow,

When sunrise brings work, or stress, or sorrow,

I will forget this time and long for it again,

As I'm thrust like chum into the sea of men.


—But for now, I am at peace with hope sustaining,

Ignoring minutes past, enjoying those remaining;

And then I remember my duties to do

And return once again to the troubles I knew.


Farewell fleeting fantasy of peace,

Greetings to my troubles that seem to never cease,

And back within the would I make my visit

And leave from this peace, knowing I shall miss it.