sunday
Sunday morning as the beagle barkes at the bakery.
The choppers throaty rumble fades down the street.
The air is light with music from a shop selling things you don't need.
Couples and lovers walk hand in hand , the light fragreance of pastry and purfume.Remind me of time we have spent .
Suddenly for a moment all is quiet except for the jazz flowing no where in a hurry . On a Sunday morning.
Theodore Scott Sheheen
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