A Brothers Sunday
Poem By dino evans
For my brother Larry.
A brothers Sunday
Football... It just isn't the same
Sunday fails to hold the gift, and promise of the game
Somehow you not being here, while Autumn wears his mane
Causes him to weep the leaves, in wind that sings your name
In crisp clear days, October whispers 'winter soon will call'
I like to think of us this way, The Winter and the The Fall
Beneath Novembers skies you taught, 'Here's how you hold the ball'
Quiet dreams are viewed, with days of snow, I see it all...
At times I watch, although it's hard
Thoughts of Sundays lost in youth, fuels the disregard
I hold within my mind those days, the grass stains from the yard
The tears I cry in solitude, cannot console my heart
The thrill is gone it seems, and for me at least, that's true
I wake to just another dreary, Autumn morning's blue
The game is on, and yet I sit in silence, till it's through
A brothers Sunday come and gone, lost in thoughts of you...