Where do Saturdays Go
Written by on in Vindaloo.


On Saturday as is my plan
I trudge to the distant market
To feed my family here
Cold winds race each other
To find new holes in my
Coat of twelve long years
Sad cow faces stare past me
Never meeting my eyes
Or seeing my smile
I wait my turn in lines
Pushing a left-turning cart
To feed my family here
Home again and cold
It is already time to start
Chopping up the veggies
Steaming out the rice
So that dinner will be ready
To feed my family here
Yet it is when dinner fades
And a chipper knock
Comes to the door
And friends with rosey faces
Quick minds and agile tongues
Gather to discuss the world
In all its great and simple forms
Then it is when I know
I've done all that I might do
To feed my family here

Comments

  1. Honey

    Honey on 03/05/2006 6:49 a.m. #


    <br />
    HIS GLORIOUS WORDS<br />
    <br />
    Ah! Glorious Sunday morning<br />
    The sun is shining bright<br />
    The birds sing forth their morning chorus<br />
    To awaken the serfs from their sleepy night<br />
    <br />
    Time to feel the sunshine<br />
    Time to hear the life<br />
    That brims every other morning<br />
    Lost out to nugatory strife<br />
    <br />
    I find spread before me the table<br />
    With sweet fruits to overflow<br />
    Feasting again to my fill<br />
    Of the food that feeds the soul<br />
    <br />
    I breathe the scent of potential blooming<br />
    And savour the vitality of the free<br />
    As I plunge deep into the vast ocean<br />
    Of boundless creative activity <br />
    <br />
    I may never idle in the bed lie<br />
    As each morning I rise his words to see<br />
    Shines as blessed SUNDAY MORNING<br />
    GLORY they bring to me<br />

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