What Sundays are for


What Sundays are for
The chores - those bores, 
For the pores to regain focus after the Night 
Befores' Hocus Pocus


For the Non compos mentis to go away
You could pray 
Or watch a bunch of sportstars play on tele
Go for a walk in wellies
Fill up your bellies with Roasts or 
Cheese on toast
Or if you are Roman Catholic, the Host


Sundays are not Mondays
And there must be a reason for that
You hang out with your dog or your cat
Or you hang loose in a duvet
Or hoover
Or move her 
Or the him, or the hymn
From the night before dimness sets-in 
And the working week begins
Move them out of your bed, your head, 
From sharing your Ted, 
Say goodbyes, hit high-fives, 
Soak it all in with a pint
In your local
Full of other locals
Nobody ever really knows but 
Don't Tell


Eastenders omnibus is on BBC ONE
And you can watch the soap opera 
From start to finish
In two hours it can't diminish
The DRAMA is always worse than your own


And for drinking,
It helps thinking, which is what Sundays are for,
That quiet gap
The stopover motorway services in the road ahead
And your bed
You can clean the sheets
Or clean your teeth
If you forgot to at all in the last weeks trawl


Fishing trawlers - you could go to the Sea
In theory
You can see a picture of the Horizon 
In more Clarity 
Than any other day of the week
Even if it's only on the TV


So that's what Sundays are for
Writing poems, calling friends, chatting shit, having the bends
All of that in a single day
The day you don't have to do anything
Yet you still get around time to do
What you want to


I love Sundays