Those Sunday Evenings

_________

Another iterative loop coming to termination,
When the starlight shines from the horizon.

The ultimate golden spell of the day,
Before the evermore sombre night.

A cool breeze wanders through the trees,
When sapiens vanished in their retreats.

Observing the stillness attained in this time's allocation,
Clutching a warm cup of tea, boiled to near perfection.

Contemplating the great 7, what did I achieve, what did I do wrong?
In a world so effortlessly repetitive, but never the same one we long.

Drenched by Weltschmerz from the days in view,
Wishing to break this ennui into something new.

Awaiting the text from those who never first send,
Jolted by melancholy, oh, Monday's around the bend.
__________