Sunday Morning

My Sunday morning radio

Plays songs both sweet and sad

Sending my thoughts strolling

Through the youth that I once had

The world "back when" was different

And yet it was the same

We laughed and loved and dreamed.

It all circles 'round again.

Weekend mornings are my favorite times. I usually wake up early, out of habit I guess. The predawn hour is quiet, I turn on a soft, low light and have the local radio station playing just loud enough to hear from the couch nearby. It's this time of day more than any other that, armed with a mug of tea and a blanket, I let my thoughts run free. I write poetry, mostly in my head and write down only one and not every time. Some are simply thought, maybe wistful wishes that form and then dissipate as smoke in the wind.  Sometimes I get an hour or more for myself, without anything pressing to do. As long as Hillary remains asleep I have this treasured quiet time to myself.