Hi y’all. As I am typing this up, it is Sunday, June 1, 2025. I woke up at 6 AM today (and actually got out of bed). Admittedly, this is very out of the ordinary (I’m a very sleepy girl).
Somehow this quiet morning got me thinking about Sundays. Like, what do I actually want my Sundays to feel like? Not just today, or for this summer, but years from now. When life is a little different, or maybe exactly the same but better. I started imagining little moments I’d love to have on those days. I’m sharing them here as a series of mini poems, little windows into the Sundays I’m dreaming of, the ones I hope to have someday.
mornings like this
I’m still curled in bed, the blankets tight,
He whispers soft in morning light:
“What do you want to eat, my sleepy dove?”
A kiss, a smile, a look of love.
I press my lips against his cheek,
The world can wait. This time is sweet.
late start, good company
They swing by towards noon, no rush, no plan,
Air sweet from the waffles in the pan
Laughter spills from friend to friend,
The kind you hope will never end.
many miles
The trail was long, the sun was kind,
A quiet stillness cleared my mind.
I kicked my shoes off by the stream,
And drifted into some soft dream.
paint under my fingernails
The floor is speckled with old blues,
My playlist hums familiar tunes.
I’m barefoot, stained, lost in the hues,
The paint dries slow this Sunday afternoon.
A cup of coffee, untouched, gone cold,
but this quiet chaos feels like gold.
had to get out of the city
I bought a ticket just to go,
No endpoint, just the window’s glow.
The world passed by in quiet strips,
And peace arrived between the trips.
applesauce in my hair
She spilled the juice, then kissed my knee,
We laughed until we couldn’t breathe.
The crayons broke, the cat ran wild,
I caught my breath, then caught the child.
The walls were messy, loud, alive,
but love like that will always thrive.
took home the wrong bouquet
I wandered in to take a peek,
The marigolds looked soft and meek.
The florist smiled and said, “Be brave,
These blooms will brighten any day.”
I thanked her quick, then walked away,
Their scent still lingers, here to stay.
work, unfiltered
Emails open, notes spread wide,
Numbers crunch and plans collide.
Calls scheduled, ideas reviewed,
Small wins stack, when steadily pursued.
the riva gallery 