Our Sunday

Rain is tapping on the window

Streaming like tears down the glass

Grey clouds looming above

Threatening with thunder

Trees shiver from the brisk wind,

Colours are muted, out there.

But inside it is Sunday

And I am warm in your bed

A cat with the cream indeed.

I won't rouse your dreams

This human is content just being

Not doing. Not today.

Hold myself close to you,

To hear your heart, see you sleep.

Feel your warm skin on mine

Clasp our hands together

And just smile.

As today it is Sunday;

The best day of all.