Sunday, boring Sunday

nailed to my chair
like a hand in a glove
with the world at my feet

I have nowhere to go
no friends to meet
I sit in retreat

a hollow space
an empty face
out of time
out of place

a boring Sunday
is al I have
nailed to a chair
birds in the trees

too far away
sky showing some fatigue
no one near enough to please
a longing is there

it says what you need
is some distracting sleep
to leave a boring Sunday
a withered leaf

(c) JR. eightees

Crossroad

well my friends, it's the parting time
remember us in the laughter the tears
and sadness we shared

all the colours of life we will miss
not forget, so will you 'till we meet
at a crossraod relivin' the past

(c) JR. 2014