Sunday whispers, “Slow it down,
leave the week, release the frown.”
Pajamas on, no plans in sight,
I let the hours melt to light.
The kettle sings, a gentle cheer,
a mug of comfort waits me here.
I stretch, I yawn, I sink, I stay—
the world can spin, I drift away.
No deadlines chase, no buzzing phone,
this quiet kingdom is my own.
I tend my soul, I rest my mind,
and leave the noise of work behind.
If laziness is counted crime,
then let me serve my sweetest time—
on Sunday, when I do not care,
for joy, for peace, for self-repair.

Talk to me! I love comments!