Lazy Perfect Sunday

I sit in my garden
and start to write...
thinking a million
words take flight,

I look as the wind
sweeps through trees,
the sweet smell of roses
lives on soft breeze,

so what care have I
of clouds in the sky,
fragrance of Lavender
as I brush by,

a teacup of happiness
as I quench my thirst...
from out of my head
those words need to burst,

paper scattered in
bits on the ground...
Sunday's so quiet
no neighbours around,

Sparrows come to
drink their fill...
as I sit here
perfectly still.