Sunday ghosts

These Sunday ghosts,
They wait for me.
These anxious trails of
Rusted weeks gone
One by one, they drip
Away til Monday quits
Another year and it’s
Tomorrow falsely played
In subtle spaces and in
Cracked cement.

These lovely apparitions
Utter something of a
Hopeful song in idle
Hues of jaundiced dusk,
And I suppose it’s but a
Cleft upon this thin façade
Of passing instants where
An instant isn’t past and
Where a Sunday means me well.

#London #UK

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