sunday

love does not begin on a sunday
it begins in the days you miss
ones forgotten or left behind,
a smile missed as life is too busy yet
to ask, you would answer all is good.

love does not tell you it loves you
it hides away on its own, in a press
de-lightfuly happy to see progress, with
mischievous comments to let on the truth
to ask, it would answer all is good

love does not turn to hate
rather misunderstanding of events
to call on oneself to debate
if your feelings were once so great
then let them lay to rest
prepare a clean slate

love does not begin on a sunday
it begins in the days you miss
and missing is all you can do
to remind love of his bliss

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