I sit with my fourth cup of coffee, in my room, on a Sunday eve
It has been a day of dull moments, no calls, no chatter, no tease
My phone is on silent mode, and I do not want to be disturbed
Why then do I wish yet to be gently perturbed?

There begins the cycle again of wants and wishes
Wanting to hang freely with a rope and not asking for squishes
Sitting on a swing looks nice through the adolescent lens
But no one to push, maybe I’ve made too high a fence?

This gush of stormy feelings seems to visit on every Sunday eve
More so lately and not wanting to leave
I say, “Let Go!”, till we meet each other again
This too shall pass, and so will the pain

I say,” Let Go!”, this time shouting out loud
I think I’m being heard till the nearest cloud
Blood gushes with a zing through my old nerves
Shout out, “Let Go!!”, till the purpose of peace it serves.

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