#45: You Say Sundry

Its never a rush,
You left your hair brush,
You said a little hush and
A hustle for me to never lose
You again,
I, too, am always hurried to get
To you quicker and faster then before,
Now all of life is a mystery,
And yes its a necessity,
For without it life is a period and
A permanent ending, but with it,
Every comma leaves you guessing,
How can one finish their sentence?
All my affection is misspelled,
All of it is still without show and
Tell, all of the snow has melted as well,
The season of rush is over, the season
Of waiting is here,
Where will it lead?
That reality called listening
That sun called glistening?
Called heat, called a retreat,
Called silence when Sunday stays
Empty, when everyone calls and
You say sundry,
You say laundry,
You say plenty for me to eat alone,
Plenty is the name of this home,
Always a rush,
But maybe not,
Maybe rot,
Maybe trust in a better

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