Poem Hunter
Poems
Sunday Morning (Coming Home)
(14/1/1989 / Solihull, Birmingham)

Sunday Morning (Coming Home)

Poem By Charlie F. Kane

Oh every moment,
Every moment I get,
Just wave it by.
It’s destroying me,
Why don’t red lights
Change to green?
It’s Sunday morning,
Coming home.

Amy,
I just missed you
As I thought about
These words,
I was going in circles,
Waiting for a green light.
To stop me from starting
In the wrong direction,
Because I’m coming home.

Just a cup of tea.
Makes sense,
It solves everything,
Shakes off the memories
Of Saturday evenings
Pass me by,
Hazed colours and
Sin just doesn’t work,
Because I’m coming home.

©Charlie F. Kane

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