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.