Ode to Sunday

Birds are singing
Chattering away;

Children are sleeping
Silently in their duvet;

The road outside is quiet
No cars or trucks rumble by

No drunken raucous riot
To make my heart sigh;

No postman bringing bills
To spoil another day;

No bitter winter chills
Are felt where I lay,

Just sweet dreams invented
For the one I love,

Peaceful and contented
Like a cooing white dove.