a single's sunday br bachelor's sunday br lonely as the sun br bright, warm br yet cold as ever br echoes of deserted morn park br reverberated br in lonely hearts br winter's sunday br a bachelor's sunday br the lonely walk br between the skyscrapers br that hid the sun br making the day drowsier br more melancholy br the heart, slayed br bobs up and down br in an ocean of wish br too big for this little frame br the mind tries cheering itself up br with verses shuttled between br different corners of the world br the muse's only Sunday warmth br that cup of coffee in hand br and pen in hand br painting the world br in his own colours, fashion br in his attempt to rise br above the waves of Sunday's blue br mozart, bach, beethoven, br trail the bright Sunday rays br sending a wave of joy br in this self sustaining survival br br inspired by: br br Those Winter Sundays br br Sundays too my father got up early br And put his clothes on in the blueback cold, br then with cracked hands that ached br from labor in the weekday weather made br banked fires blaze. No one ever thanked him. br br I'd wake and hear the cold splintering, breaking. br When the rooms were warm, he'd call, br and slowly I would rise and dress, br fearing the chronic angers of that house, br br Speaking indifferently to him, br who had driven out the cold br and polished my good shoes as well.