by Gerry Legister

Created on: November 18, 2009

Venerable Sunday afternoons ebb and flow,

Through the labyrinth of thanksgiving service,

A garland of praises charmed the sunset to go,

Retreating beyond the fury of reluctant voices.

To find Samaritans making the missionary run,

Taking on spirit against the sky of rosy flame,

Angelic army waiting enthusiastically for the sun,

To flee with the halo of blaze into a slender stream.

They meet zodiac acquaintance and friends,

To bring our hopes and dreams nearer home,

And change with the torch of serene seconds,

Plans we had already made for this afternoon.

Mingling hours into another moonlight image,

Marvelously glistering upon the enriched shore,

Higher than moral thoughts and privilege,

The waning light drifts into sleepy hour.

Sunday afternoons compose melancholy looses,

With healing balm music bore enchantment spear,

Invest soft words making amiable promises,

Hypnotize individuals will never remember.

To keep the mind aglow with eloquent desire,

Till the moon has taken a stolen seat,

Sunday afternoons refuse to leap any higher,

Serenading love overlapping cold and heat.

Roam into providence of wandering water,

The afternoon falls prostrate on the ground,

Reflection swoons and breathes in prayer,

The gushing taste of paradise we have found.

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