Paint Me a Monday
By benafim
Paint Me A Monday I sit on the roof and see that day has settled into afternoon, morning rain has dried, only a few damp patches in the back yard and under the apple tree where the sun doesn’t quite reach before spring. Dust is now a dusty lane, instead of mud on my black Sunday boots, those I use for funerals here in the hamlet where children are not born. The day hopes for stillness and a starlit sky to guide it through the night and back to a new dawn My wish is that five years hence, I’ll still be able to sit on the roof and see day walk slowly by... and not followed by an army of Christian soldiers righteously laying waste the green land of peace in search for the last terrorist. Written January 7th, 2002 © on Jan 07 2002 08:25 AM PST 0 • 12
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"Paint Me A Monday..."