The sun tiptoes on my windowsill

It’s quiet here the air stands still

A coffee cup warms my hand like a friend

But the day feels heavy where does it end

Sunday shadows long and lean

A bridge between what’s been and unseen

Oh it lingers soft and slow

Where the heart’s unsure which way to go

The clock whispers every second’s name

Yet nothing moves it’s all the same

A book half-read stares from the chair

While dreams get tangled in the morning air

Do you feel it too this hollow hum

The start of something or the end to come

Sunday shadows long and lean

A bridge between what’s been and unseen

Oh it lingers soft and slow

Where the heart’s unsure which way to go

Clouds paint stories in the sky

Questions hang we don’t ask why

A restless calm a fleeting ache

Sunday feels are hard to shake