sunday

sunday is a teacup in bloom
when time laundered hangs out to dry
its soft fabric flutters despite the stillness of air
i hear the hum of my thoughts as my heart beat strolls
on the paradise of summer where wind is stingy with its kisses
sunday is the soft bed i lie in with my dog
with crumpled sheets that tell me life is good
as the noonday sun hovers longer than it should
and people go to pray to the God of all our days
so i say, You can remove all days but not
sunday, when my teacup is in bloom, and
Peace drops by the front porch, and puts his feet up
as Love waters the plants
that grow tall, an inch or so,
each sunday.

Author: Susan Ople

Susan "Toots" Ople is the President of the Blas F. Ople Policy and Training Institute. She's an OFW and labor advocate based in the Philippines.

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  • http://witnesslane.blogspot.com/ Migs

    Yehey! I knew you’d post another poem. Great post, I especially like the imagery of crumpled sheets on a summer Sunday. :)

  • http://www.susanople.com toots ople

    hehehe salamat at may naghihintay naman pala ng mga tula ko! thanks, Migs!