Sunday

Alas does Sunday come, trudging toward the end

Weekly does it bring, a begrudging satisfaction

A kiss goodbye to work, and things left undone

And yet with rest comes, the shiver of my unbusied hands

Freedom feels quite heavy, when my mind still feels enslaved

For the brute force of schedule beckons, with the whip of pay

Save some room for me, in the pew by the door

For with me comes the hope that I will rest in the Lord.


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