Sunday Morning / by Academy Monthly

As I sit in my chair seeing what I have due, 

I lay back in my chair with a book in my view.

 

As I go for my glass and feel the morning breeze,

I acknowledge the wind going through all the trees.

 

As I glance out the window and look at the ground,

I notice how all of the ants go back to their mound.

 

As I walk to the table to go take a break,

I sense that all of this is just a mistake.

 

As I stand up from the chair, that is my cue:

It finally came to me what I have to do.

 

As I make my way down my creaky wooden stair,

Taking a peek outside … is the weather quite fair?

 

I open the door, the wind blowing in my face,

I’m ready for a walk, time to pick up the pace.

 

I stand on the sidewalk with my hands on my hips.

That all of those days, I called like poker chips. 

 

I ignored all the signs, I stood behind the doors,

And now I am free, to hear the birds sing their chords.

 

This is all a new world, thoughts sprinting through my head,

I walk through the grass, the trail leading me ahead.

 

I sit on the bench, leaning back, with legs now crossed,

Taking a deep breath, all that time inside, now tossed.

 

The past is in the past; it’s all behind me.

I look to the right, the path opening I see.

 

I look to the left, with a road back to home, 

But really, to the right is where I must roam. 

 

And I think to myself… 

 

How during all of this, I just chose to ignore.

Staying cooped up inside was really just the bore.

 

And all of that time in my chair, saying, “Life is so boring,”

My awaking had come: this is my new Sunday morning.